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RENFREW OF THE 
ROYAL MOUNTED 














RENFREW OF THE 
ROYAL MOUNTED 

BY 

LAURIE YORKE ERSKINE 

• J 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK :: MCMXXII :: LONDON 



COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 



*°l V -X 3 3 

~i~ ~L- 


Copyright, 1921, by The Sprague Publishing Company 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA 


TO 

MY MOTHER 
MARGERY ERSKINE 



































































1 


























































































































' 












































































■ 





















- 

/ 
















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Man from the North .... i 

II. Chasing Ghosts 23 

III. The River which Was Lost ... 50 

IV. The Closed Door 69 

V. The Fear of White Water ... 83 

VI. Mackenzie Comes Back 97 

Vlir One Who Rode Alone no 

VIII. Traveling Light 132 

IX. The Price 151 

X. The Yellow Dog 159 

XI. The Man in the Swamp .... 175 

XII. The Last Laugh 187 

XIII. Mad! 210 

XIV. Near to the End 230 

XV. The Very End 247 



RENFREW of the 
ROYAL MOUNTED 


CHAPTER I 

THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 

“He’s tall,” Alan told the other fellows. “Over 
six feet, I guess. He always wears riding clothes, and 
he walks with a sort of spring, like a woodsman. He 
is fair, and his face is very bronzed. He looks a lot 
like the picture of General Custer I think, only 
younger, and he keeps his hair cut short, and he is clean 
shaven.” 

Also, a thing Alan did not mention, there were his 
eyes. Renfrew had an impassive countenance, and all 
the emotions which men usually betray in their facial 
expression were reflected only in his gray eyes which 
were very cool and clear. Often Alan found them 
seeking his own with so much of understanding in 
them that Alan knew here was a friend indeed ; 
that before all his other friends he could hold this 
tall young man. And Alan was right. The two 
were to be bound in the strong friendship of man for 
man in many adventures to come. 

I 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


This friendship, these adventures, were all started 
with the breaking of ground for a house, and they were 
built up with the house, rising as the bricks rose, tier 
upon tier into a lasting edifice. 

The house grew far back in the wooded hills which 
beautifully surround Walney, a suburb of a great city. 
It was away from the Country Club and away from 
the highway, and the name of the builder was for a 
long time unknown. Walney folk began to gossip 
about it at the breaking of the ground, and they pur- 
sued their speculations while the bricks uprose. But 
no inquiries elicited the builder’s name and curiosity 
grew resentful. Especially the folks on the hill re- 
sented it, because it was they who upheld the social 
tradition of Walney, and they expected all who built 
there to make themselves known so that they could 
be referred to properly in Dunn and Bradstreet’s. 
Could this be a snob, who is a person who does not 
wish to know you? Or was it, even worse, some per- 
son, newly rich, whom one does not wish to know? 
The mystery irritated Walney folk. 

But it was no mystery to Alan MacNeil. 

There was a young man associated with the build- 
ing of that house from the very start, and Alan, curi- 
ous regarding the operations, had early made a friend 
of him. The young man always rode, or had near 
him, a glistening black mare of great height and fine 
spirit, and he usually had a dog or two following at 
2 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


his heels, — Alan liked best a huge brindle staghound 
with a shaggy coat and straight, powerful legs. The 
young man, in short, carried with him the whole clean 
spirit of out-of-doors, and had about him the flavor of 
adventure. His name, Alan discovered, was Ren- 
frew — Douglas Renfrew. 

As the house neared completion and the name of 
the builder became spread about the town, the friend- 
ship of the man and the boy developed. Later, Alan 
brought Billy Loomis, Bruce Currie, Paul Hurlbut, 
Dick Rose, Howard Hough, Phil Mayo, and all the 
rest of his comrades to meet his new chum, and Ren- 
frew seemed remarkably able to meet with his youth- 
ful guests and to entertain them in his silent, friendly 
manner. Alan was just fourteen years old that spring 
and the others were of a like age. 

The boys used to come to a copse of cedars within 
the grounds, a stone's throw from the red brick house. 
They would sit there for long afternoons making 
stories and weaving legends. Here Renfrew would 
come and find them when he came ; sometimes appear- 
ing on the glistening black mare, sometimes on foot; 
always bringing with him the spirit of open places and 
the vague air of adventure. 

After he occupied the house with the furniture, 
he betrayed his presence to the boys by the clacking 
of a typewriter within, and they would wait until he 
stopped his task, which seemed interminable, and came 
3 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


out to play catch with them, or to sit and urge them to 
tell him of themselves. 

On this, the great afternoon, the afternoon of the 
discovery, Alan had come with the boys to the cedar 
copse, and, waiting, they found that the typewriter 
was silent. It was a sweetly scented afternoon, Alan 
remembered; an afternoon in mid-spring, of still air 
and of fresh green leaves which were transparent 
under the sun. It had rained the night before and the 
odor of the earth was in the air. 

“He must be away,” said Bub Currie. “He’s in the 
city a lot lately.” 

“He might be right behind you now,” said Alan. 
“That’s the way he comes. It’s great.” 

“Listen!” said Bub. 

Several of the boys had heard, and all of them 
were silent as they lay about on the soft turf and lis- 
tened. It was a sound which they had never heard 
come from the red brick house before — the sound of 
a piano played perfectly. The music was elfin, with 
oft-repeated minor chords, and a tempo which sug- 
gested the movement of wild things in open green 
places. It was “The Dance of the Gnomes,” by Grieg, 
and it was a haunting piece. 

The boys always came to this place in a spirit of 
mystery — not boisterous; so they yielded to the spell 
of the music and were quiet. For a time the music 
filled the country-side about them and accompanied 
4 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


pleasantly the whisper of the trees and the splashing of 
a brook which tumbled across the grounds. 

There was not a doubt in the minds of the boys that 
the hidden musician was their friend himself, and 
when the music stopped they voiced their appreciation 
with cheers and with demands for more. Then the 
door opened, and there, framed in the doorway, stood 
a gray-haired woman, smiling. Smiling with kindly 
gray eyes, gray eyes which seemed to understand a 
boy. The boys, leaped to their feet, quite astonished 
by her unexpected appearance. 

“My mother,” said a quiet, clear voice in their midst, 
and it was the young man, quite near them with the 
great staghound pushing its way among the boys and 
licking them prodigiously. That is how he introduced 
her, as his mother, mentioning no names and examin- 
ing every boy with his direct gaze. 

The boys found that they liked the gray-haired lady 
very well, and they felt that they had known her for 
years. She showed them the inside of the red brick 
house, and they were enchanted. Had any one else 
in the world offered to show them any other house, it 
would not have interested them at all. 

Afterward, when they stood in the copse once more, 
Renfrew, who had stopped inside for a moment, re- 
joined them. 

“I’d ask you fellows to spend the afternoon here,” 
he said, “and stay to supper” — six pairs of eyes lit up 

5 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


— “but, of course, your people would hardly be pre- 
pared to have you do that.” 

There followed an eloquent chorus. 

“My mother wouldn’t care !” 

“My mother wouldn’t mind where I eat.” 

“I never have to let mother know !” 

“I eat anywhere I like.” 

Renfrew regarded the boys thoughtfully for a mo- 
ment. 

“Well,” he said, after a pause, “another time, per- 
haps.” 

Further protestations of independence and of utter 
freedom followed this ultimatum, while the young man 
regarded the boys steadily. Then he spoke again. 

“Would you fellows like to hear a story?” he asked. 

Unanimously, with a great voice, they said they 
would. 

So, spread about him on the turf, they listened to 
“The Story of the Man from the North.” 

“This,” said the young man, “is the story of a boy 
who ran away. His name was Carling — Jimmy Carl- 
ing — and when he was seventeen he ran away. He 
did not run away in anger, because of an unjust pun- 
ishment, nor had he done any wrong. At home he 
had been more happy, I believe, than he deserved. He 
ran away from something of which this story will tell 
you, and he went with his mother’s permission, al- 
though he never knew how reluctantly it was given. 

6 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


“He had longed always to see the land which lay 
beyond the hills which bound the world he lived in, 
and it was into that land he made his way to seek for 
adventure. And he found it — it was always his luck to 
be present when things happened. 

“He started his ramblings in southern Texas, and 
from there he made his way into Mexico, where an 
old friend of his family was a missionary among the 
natives. Here he met with an adventure which brought 
him back to the United States, up to a northern city. 
You must remind me to tell of that adventure another 
time. 

“After he left Minnesota, he rambled through the 
northwestern states a while until, urged by a lack of 
money, he made his way into northern Canada, which 
was in the hot flush of a rush for oil. There he fell 
in with the Mounted Police. . . 

The young man paused, and a thoughtful smile 
lighted his face — as one smiles who remembers a good 
thing. 

“The Royal Northwest Mounted Police,” he said, 
“you must have heard of them. The quiet determi- 
nation of this Force which worked, lonely, against 
tremendous odds and seldom failed, appealed to him. 
He decided that to work with the Force must be a very 
great adventure indeed, and since the various experi- 
ences he had undergone rather fitted him for the work, 
he found a place among them. 

7 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“He had many fine adventures, and he served with 
splendid comrades, but this story deals with the last 
adventure of them all. An adventure which revealed 
to him something better than the Force — a finer duty, 
which was better than all adventure. It led him to 
leave the Police — I am afraid forever.” 

The young man’s voice was low, and again he smiled. 

“One winter Carling was stationed at Peace River 
Crossing, which in those days was scarcely more than 
a Police Post. News came that an Indian horse thief, 
for whom the Police had scoured the American bor- 
der in vain, had fled to the Clear Hills in the North 
where he sought refuge in the forbidding solitude of 
wintertime in the barrens. Carling was given the duty 
of plunging blindly into the wilderness and fetching 
this miscreant out. It was all in a day’s work to the 
Mounted Police, and Carling set out with a team of 
dogs, and an Indian driver to comb the Indian villages 
until he found his man. It might take a week, it might 
take all winter ; Carling would get his man. 

“You know I can’t tell you fellows of what the 
North in wintertime is like. I can’t tell you of the 
feeling which grips a man’s heart and tells him to hold 
back, as he stands facing the ghostly barrens which 
stretch far and away to the horizon. That leaden hori- 
zon has concealed death in agony, blindness, and rav- 
ing lunacy for many men who have plunged into it as 
Jimmy Carling did that winter, strong and filled with 
8 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


the pleasure which is given men in their strength. 
Stedman was a stronger man than Carling, and yet 
Stedman came out of it broken and shattered. That 
is another story which you must remind me to tell 
you. And there was Fitzherbert who set out with an 
entire patrol — The gray horizon of the North in 
wintertime hides a pretty bitter sort of life, and a very 
rotten, lonely death — if a man fails. 

“When Carling set out the sky was particularly dirty 
in the North, and it promised bad weather. He made 
in a northwesterly direction, and got news of his man 
sooner than he had expected. A party of trappers 
told him that Thunder Bear, the Indian whom he 
sought, was in a winter village on the head waters of 
the Battle River. This meant a trek of over one hun- 
dred and thirty miles into the teeth of the north wind, 
with a blizzard threatening, and the thermometer fifty- 
one degrees below zero. Carling turned his sledge to 
the pole, and in a morning all black before the dawn, 
he started out. 

“With fair weather, and a good trail, the journey 
should have taken him a little less than four days, for 
men and dogs in good condition travel swiftly over the 
snow trail. But the first day’s journey was slow and 
laborious ; the snow had only a thin crust in spite of 
the bitter cold, and the men and the sledges broke 
through. Only twenty miles were covered the first 
day — Carling should have taken more dogs — 

9 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“You see he had planned to make straight for a set- 
tlement called Vermilion high up on the Peace River, 
but when he got news of his man he decided to lose no 
time in running him down, so he set out immediately 
for his objective. 

“The second day Carling had scarcely got to the 
foothills of the Clear Range when the blizzard broke 
upon him. Fortunately he had reached a hilly coun-. 
try, and the range which lay to the northwest pro- 
tected him a little. It was impossible to continue the 
journey in the face of the storm which raged. The 
blizzard would have given short shrift to any human 
being in its path. So Carling and his Indian built a 
dugout in a hollow under a hill, and lay there to let 
the blizzard pass. 

“Two days of this. They stayed in the dugout two 
days. On the second day Carling and his Indian 
pushed through the snow which packed heavily about 
their shelter and found the weather clear under a 
sullen sky. And after their eyes had become accus- 
tomed to the dazzling whiteness of the world they dis- 
cerned something more. At a distance of a rod or so 
the stumbling, flapping apparition of a man. A 
dwarfed and stunted figure which bulged ridiculously 
with the furs it wore, and bent its humped back for- 
ward as though it bore a burden. 

“The uncouth figure stumbled about for a moment 
with its arms waving wildly in the air; then suddenly, 
io 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


like a rag doll, it collapsed. Carling dived into the 
dugout for his snowshoes, and when he emerged again 
the figure had risen to its feet and was off at a new 
tangent from which it veered drunkenly with its head 
tipped up to the sky and its arms groping and fighting 
in the air. 

“ ‘Snow blind !’ said Carling shortly, and he set out 
to head the figure off. 

“As he loped forward the figure again collapsed, and 
on the snow it strove with infinite pathos and futility 
to regain its feet once more ; but the North had trapped 
its victim. The snow gave way treacherously as the 
fallen human being pressed against it. Its baffling sub- 
stance sapped the feeble strength, and tore at the vic- 
tim’s heart. He lay still. 

Carling reached the fallen figure, and picked it up as 
though it was the figure of a boy. He bore it into the 
dugout, and tearing back the furs and rough woolens 
which swathed the figure, he reached to feel the heart. 
The head fell back as he removed the hood, and the 
candle which the Indian held revealed it as the face of 
a boy indeed ; the copper-colored features of an Indian 
boy about sixteen years of age. 

“With a great deal of rubbing and punching, with 
heavy blows of the open palm, and with strong liquor, 
they brought the youngster back to life. But not to 
vision, for the snow had made him blind. Carling, 
knowing the pain which light would cause the boy in 
II 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


his affliction, bound a handkerchief over his eyes be- 
fore he regained consciousness. 

“For a moment the resuscitated boy lay still, re- 
laxed as savages will relax to regain strength in time 
of stress. A good thing that, by the way, for you fel- 
lows to remember — in time of stress, relax. The clever 
fighter, when he is knocked down, stays down, regath- 
ering his forces till the ninth count. So did the Indian 
boy. 

“Then suddenly he arose and stood as straight as a 
pine in one quick move. He stood alert, and tried to 
sense the men he could not see. 

“ ‘Kesinamis is near death,’ he said eagerly, speaking 
straight to the open air. ‘You will return with me, 
redcoat? Kesinamis is near death. It is my mother.’ 

“ ‘How do you know I am a redcoat ?’ asked Carling. 

“ ‘The skins of the redcoat speak when he moves/ 
replied the Indian lad. ‘The skins which he wears are 
hard skins.’ The savage’s quick ear had caught the al- 
most inaudible creak of Carling’s leather belt and ac- 
coutrement. 

“ ‘You say that your mother is ill, sick — that she is 
dying?’ asked Carling, and gently he pulled the boy 
back upon the bed of fir branches. 

“ ‘Dying,’ said the lad, struggling feebly. ‘We must 
go now. It is my mother.’ 

“ ‘The snow has made you blind,’ said Carling. 

12 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


‘And you have little strength. We will wait here until 
you can see once more/ 

“But the boy would not have that. He had plunged 
into the barrens to seek aid, and no one knows how 
long he had traveled with his scanty pack through the 
blizzard. Now, although he was blind and exhausted, 
he had only one thought : he must start Carling on the 
back trail to save his mother’s life, and that done he 
cared little if he dropped by the track himself. 

" ‘Kisanis wants no eyes to see Kesinamis when she 
is dead,’ he cried. ‘The redcoat will come back the trail 
with Kisanis. He will make Kesinamis well. It is 
my mother.’ 

“The young voice striving for words — for the Indian 
boy knew very few — was far more piteous than the 
eyes of a dumb, suffering animal. The eager, helpless 
repetition tore at Carling’s heart; but he was after a 
man — Thunder Bear. 

“ ‘The redcoat goes on a long journey,’ explained 
Carling. ‘His duty will take him three — four days. 
He will leave Kisanis here with Pook (Pook was the 
name of Carling’s Indian). When he returns you will 
be strong and see once more. Then we will go back to 
Kesinamis.’ 

“At this the boy put his arms over his eyes, as a man 
does who is suffering, for deeper than the pain of his 
blindness was the burning thought that Kesinamis 
13 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


might even now be dying. Once more he stood sud- 
denly erect. 

“ ‘Let the redcoat go on !' he cried with a sob in his 
voice. Took go v/ith him. Kisanis must make the 
redcoat's lodge alone! Kesinamis is near death,' he 
wailed. ‘It is my mother.’ 

Carling rose and started to pull the boy's furs about 
his throat and head. 

“ Took,’ he said, ‘get ready the sledge. We will go 
with Kisanis.' 

“The boy said no word. He threw himself on the 
bed again. Now he was content. He had great con- 
fidence in the redcoat. 

“As Pook roused the dogs from their holes in the 
snow, and began to break camp, Carling put a kettle of 
water, with tea leaves in it, on the fire to boil ; and after 
all was ready to depart they waited until the steam 
began to rise. Then Carling took the bandage from 
the boy's head, and bade him look into the kettle. 
Carling guiding him, the lad thrust his eyes down to 
the steaming opening, and the redcoat covered his 
head with the handkerchief to let none of the steam 
escape. This is a cure for snow blindness which pio- 
neers knew before tea was sold in tins, and it is a sure 
cure. 

“Kisanis looked into the kettle until it steamed no 
more, and after that the pain was gone and he was not 
so blind. Carling put the handkerchief over his eyes 
14 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


again, and the three set out to find the stricken Indian 
woman. 

“They made northwest under the Indian lad's direc- 
tion, aiming for Musgus Portage, over the Musgus 
Hills ; and because the blizzard had made a good trail 
for them, and the wind had changed to the northeast, 
their drive was an easy one. With Kisanis on the 
sledge, they won to the Portage in less than two days. 

“Repeated treatments of the great tea cure in the 
shelter of a trapper’s cabin on the trail had given 
Kisanis back his sight, and good food, with rest, had 
him running with the dogs before the portage had been 
left a day’s journey behind them. So he led the party, 
pacing the leaders of the team indefatigably, and they 
made good time. 

“In a copse of sheltering fir trees on the bank of 
a little stream, they came upon an Indian encamp- 
ment. 

“ Tt is the lodge of Thunder Bear,’ said Kisanis, 
with something akin to a catch in his voice. 

“ Thunder Bear !’ cried Carling. This was the man 
he was hunting! 

“ ‘My father,’ said the boy. ‘He will not be here, 
Thunder Bear has watched for the redcoat since Kisanis 
went to find him.’ 

“He said no more, but pushed on at a feverish pace. 
He was filled now with fear for his mother. I watched 
him as we approached. I watched his young face with 
15 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


the fear in his eyes, and God knows I feared as 

well Kisanis — Young Old Man — sick with fear 

for the woman, his mother, whom he loved better than 
his life/’ 

" You watched him!” said Alan, catching his breath. 

“Fearful of losing his mother,” said Renfrew. 
“Coming home. Lord, what a home to come to !” 

“We made for the door of the Indian cabin — Carling 
made for the door, and the Indian boy ” 

Renfrew gazed for a moment into Alan’s eyes. 

“Pook hung back,” he said. 

“The Indian hung back, staring dreadfully at a 
mound, covered with snow which lay before him. He 
made an exclamation, and Carling and Kisanis turned 
about, and they saw the covered mound. Carling 
moved toward it, but the life went out of the boy’s 
face, and he stood as rigid as a totem. 

“Carling knelt, and started delving in the snow which 
covered the mound, and as he raked it away in great 
armfuls, the boy, Kisanis, began to chant in a plaintive 
sing-song : 

“ ‘Kesinamis is dead. Kesinamis, my mother. 
Kesinamis, the White Otter woman. She is dead. She 
has gone to a spirit place. Kesinamis, my mother !’ he 
chanted. 

“He chanted on, standing rigidly looking into the 
vacant air. Desolate, distracted — a forlorn Indian boy 
— and all the while Carling delved into the snow with 
16 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


the pitiful dirge tearing at his heart and fearing what 
he might uncover. 

“Finally he reached the hidden corpse. Wolves had 
been at it, and it was a hideous, unbeautiful thing. It 
was not the corpse of Kesinamis. It was the body of 
a man — Thunder Bear, dead where he had fallen ; dead 
of diphtheria. 

“The air in the cabin was very foul, having been 
sealed within the cabin for several days. The fire had 
long since gone out, and the ghastly stillness of the 
stale air, more piercing than the coldest outdoor 
weather, reached Carling’s very marrow. 

“It astonished Carling that the Indian woman re- 
mained alive. No disease would have been necessary 
to kill a white woman after three days in such an at- 
mosphere. 

“He ventilated the hut, built a fire, and treated the 
woman as best he could, painting her throat with iodine 
and ministering to her from his scanty medicine chest. 
He then fed her a mess of condensed milk and water 
which was the only invalid food he had. Doubtless the 
heavy coverings in which she was swathed, keeping 
the pores of her body open, had helped her fight the 
illness. Whatever virtue it was which had assisted 
her, it had stood her in good stead, for indomitably she 
held the evil at arm’s length. 

“Then Carling, with the two Indians, set about build- 
ing another cabin. In two days they had erected a 
17 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


cozy shelter, and to this fresher chamber they moved 
Kesinamis. 

“There followed long days of fighting for the life 
of the Indian woman, and when despair of winning the 
unequal contest crept into Carling’s heart, a look at 
the Indian boy, living every hour at the door of his 
mother’s cabin, sufficed to urge him to a sterner reso- 
lution. 

“Often they prayed, and there were long black nights 
of nursing. In the North, in the bitter winter — 

“It is difficult for me to go on with this story now. 
To describe the love of a savage boy for his mother; 
to describe the devotion which burned always in his 
eyes, and was betrayed in the music of his voice when 
he spoke to her, is very difficult. 

“Carling, when he was a boy, had lived in very much 
the same way as you fellows live. His mother had 
been to him a gentle influence which he had accepted 
as granted, and he had loved her; and when he had 
been ill or in any trouble, he had felt mightily glad 
and thankful to have her with him. Whenever trouble, 
illness, or unhappiness had come to her, the matter had 
always been taken completely out of his hands by grown 
folk. 

“Now something began to move in Carling’s heart 
which troubled him. A little painful worm of unknown 
kind was eating at his spirit, and vaguely he felt 
ashamed. 

18 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


“Kesinamis grew better; her throat became more 
clear. She could now see her son and know him, and 
the boy’s place became immovable at her bedside. 
Carling, seeing them together, felt more ashamed, and 
he could not tell why. 

“One night, rolled in his sleeping bag but sleepless, 
Carling found out what the little worm was which 
troubled him. It was self-reproach, relentless, and 
very bitter. A clear light seemed to shine in upon him, 
so that he could see within his breast, and he saw for 
the first time that he had run away. 

“ ‘Kisanis must make the redcoat’s lodge alone,’ the 
blind and exhausted Indian boy had said. ‘Kesinamis 
is near death. It is my mother !’ 

“And what of Carling’s mother? 

“As her hair grew white, and as her youth left her, 
Carling had run away — he had run away from her side 
and from the quiet of her home to follow his life of 
splendid adventure. How if she were ill? Near death? 
Carling could not know. It had been months since he 
had heard from her. Mails travel slowly in the North. 
His mother! 

“There had been a time before his father died when 
she had had to work — work hard to clothe and feed 
him; and sometimes he had sent home for money! 

“Bitterly the little worm ate into his heart, and he 
flushed painfully, groaning into his blanket. He, the 
white man — the ‘superior race’ — and Kisanis, blind 
19 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


and exhausted, had said T must make the redcoat's 
lodge alone.' 

“He arose and put on his snowshoes and stumbled 
out over the snow into the night. Then he stood still, 
stock still under the flashing northern lights. And he 
stayed there, under the lights, till morning. 

“When morning came, and the smell of burning 
wood came over the snow to remind him of his com- 
panions, Carling made his way back to the camp again. 
He was stiff with the cold, and he set to chopping wood 
vigorously to restore his circulation; but he saw Ki- 
sanis disappear into the hut, burdened with some article 
for the invalid, and the determination which had come 
to him in the night rang in his ears with the sound of 
the axe, as though the voice in his breast spoke aloud. 

“He must leave the Police! Buy himself out! Buy 
himself out! And go back to the responsibility he had 
shirked ! He must build his mother a home, and shel- 
ter her, and care for her. He must give her every- 
thing she most desired. Every smallest thing to make 
her happy! 

“But how ? said his mind, as the flashing ax rang on 
the wood. 

“His savings would not pay for his release from the 
Police, would certainly not build the home which had 
come into his mind as a thing of urgent importance. 

“Suddenly, as ideas always come, the idea came to 
him. People wrote stories about the sort of thing he 
20 


THE MAN FROM THE NORTH 


had been doing ever since he left home. Often the 
stories were poor things with very little truth about 
them, but people read them, and it occurred to him 
that they must pay for them as well. Surely, thought 
he, if he could convey on paper anything of the devo- 
tion of this Indian boy, anything of the urgent suffer- 
ing in his voice that day in the dugout, people would 
pay for that. 

“So he wrote, using his pencil stub and the pages of 
his notebook. He wrote far into the winter nights, in 
the sick room, by candle light. His fingers were often 
numb with the cold so that there was little feeling in 
them, and he could scarcely read the staggering scrawl 
which resulted. He wrote and wrote feverishly, al- 
ways with the burning eyes of Kisanis before him and 
the boy’s voice chanting in his ear. The whole, vast, 
bitter spirit of the North went into that story, I believe; 
and it was from no worth of his, but because the little 
worm ate into his heart, and the gift was given him to 
write. 

“Later, when together, the four came down from the 
North, he typed that story, and very readily the people 
bought it. Not only that one did they buy, but from 
eastern, civilized places came a long call for more. 

“He wrote more, and his fortune grew with the 
fame they brought him. Lord ! It sounds like a rotten 
novel! But he gained his heart’s desire, you know. 
He built the home which he knew he did not deserve.” 


21 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Renfrew’s voice dropped a little, became a little rev- 
erent. 

“Yet there was one who deserved the happiness his 
fortune brought her,” he said. 

“Carling was the instrument. . . . 

Alan spoke first among the silent boys. 

“Is that the house ?” he asked, pointing to the house 
of mystery. 

Renfrew nodded. 

“The war came on after I came down from the 
North, but it only interrupted, it did not kill the 
dream.” 

The young man seemed very happy. His eyes lit up 
as he caught the eyes of the circle of boys. They smiled 
back at him. 

“Of course,” he said, “you fellows know now. I’m 
keeping my presence here rather quiet. I’m at work 
on a book, and if the town knows who I am I’ll have 
no rest. They want a fellow to mix so. Ask him out 
a lot, you know. Just know me quietly until that book 
is finished, and come back a lot. Prepare to stay next 
time and we’ll have stories till the moon is high.” 

And before the boys went on their way they prom- 
ised him that. 


CHAPTER II 


CHASING GHOSTS 

Small incidents breed the idea, and from ideas all 
great adventure is sprung. 

Who can tell what casual incident first planted the 
seed in the mind of Columbus which made the world 
seem round ? Or what sage can inform us of the crack 
of circumstance which showed Caesar the light which 
led him to Britain ? Once a man went up in a balloon 
and proved to the world that men could fly, but no one 
has said what bred the idea. It was an incident; the 
same sort of incident which befell another young man 
and showed him that baffled steam would blow the lid 
off a kettle. 

So it was that a story, a mere ghost story, to pass 
a spring evening bore fruit in an idea, and the idea led 
to a great adventure. 

The boys that night sat about a fire built in the hol- 
low of a gravel pit which was dug in the side of the 
river bank. Dusk fell late on these spring evenings and 
the leaflets which decked the trees showed vividly emer- 
23 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


aid while the shadows of deep purple slowly enveloped 
them. It was a still, windless evening as the boys sat 
about their fire in Pin Factory Cut ( for this quiet sec- 
tion of the river had been named after the abandoned 
business venture which had left the gaunt, blind brick 
house standing by the decaying dam). 

“He will come soon,” said Bub Currie, as the shad- 
ows deepened and the flame of the fire became more 
distinct. 

“Seven o’clock,” announced Billy Loomis. 

“Maybe something came up to keep him,” suggested 
Bub; and listening to the splashing of the water as it 
overran the old dam, he added, “Gee! the old factory 
looks spooky, doesn’t it?” 

“Looks like a haunted house,” said Dick Rose, his 
dark eyes snapping in the firelight. 

“Listen!” somebody cried. From out of sight and 
further up the river bank a voice with more volume to 
commend it than quality was singing; 

“O Mrs. Shady, she was a lady, 

She had a daughter whom I adore. 

I used to court her (I mean the daughter), 

Every Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 
Thursday, Friday, Saturday, 

Sunday afternoon at half-past four !” 

“Wow!” yelled Howard Hough, approving of the 
remarkable anthem. 


24 


CHASING GHOSTS 


“Alan ! that voice !” cried Billy Loomis dramatically. 

As one, the group of boys voiced their approval ; but 
not for long. The resounding, cheery voice of a vigor- 
ous young man came to them from the unknown loca- 
tion of the approaching singer. 

“Fine!” cried the voice. “Second verse!” and it 
joined with the singer. 

“O Mrs. Shady, she was a lady, 

She had a daughter whom I adore. 

I used to court her (I mean the daughter), 

Every Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 
Thursday, Friday, Saturday, 

Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thurs- 
day, Friday, Saturday, 

Sunday afternoon at half -past four!” 

Nearer the approaching voices came, bearing their 
song with them. As the last line was booming out over 
the still countryside, Alan came hurtling down the 
gravel bank and barely stopped short of the fire. Ren- 
frew swung in along the riverside, moving with an 
easy woodman’s stride which caused him to loom into 
sight from the dusk as a ship looms up through the 
mist. 

“And now, gentlemen,” cried Renfrew, his eyes twin- 
kling mischievously, “the fifteenth and last verse !” 

Many voices in many keys swelled the chorus which 
followed. 


25 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“O Mrs. Shady, she was a lady, 

She had a daughter whom I adore. 

I used to court her (I mean the daughter), 

Every Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 
Thursday ” 

The unfortunate Mrs. Shady and her even less happy 
daughter were saved from fifteen weeks of this by the 
complete inability of the ardent suitors to stand, or 
rather sing, together. It ended in pandemonium. 

The effort over, all concerned collapsed by the fire, 
and consumed an entire box of slippery elm cough 
drops before Bub, to whom they belonged, could get 
the box back again. 

Only Renfrew stood erect throwing a long shadow 
against the gravel bank and watching the moon which 
had not yet risen into their sight throw ghostly lights 
on the deserted factory across the river. 

“Well, fellows/’ he said, “I told you I’d meet you 
here to-night for a story. What sort of a story shall 
it be? I warn you I don’t feel hideously serious to- 
night.” 

There came a rush of urgent suggestions. For the 
most part the spell of the still black weir and the blind, 
deserted building beyond lay upon the boys heavily, and 
a ghost story was the cry of the majority. 

“But I have never seen a ghost,” protested Renfrew. 
“They have never palled with me particularly. A very 
26 


CHASING GHOSTS 


exclusive herd, ghosts are. They feel that I eat too 
much, I believe. Not enough green apple pie, though. 
Ghosts are strong for people who eat green apple pie 
in quantity.” 

“This would be a great night for ghosts though, 
wouldn’t it?” said Dick Rose lucidly. “Look at that 
moonlight on the Pin Factory! It makes it look 
dead.” 

“What a night!” suddenly said Renfrew. “And a 
dandy place for a fire, too !” 

“But you said you’d tell us a story !” accused Eddie 
Adams. 

“It reminds me of a night in Saskatchewan,” said 
Renfrew. 

“A ghost story,” urged Bub Currie. 

“If you interrupt me again, young feller,” said Ren- 
frew, easily, “you’ll be made into a little exclusive 
ghost all along of yourself.” 

“You said it reminded you of a night in Hoboken,” 
urged Dick Rose. 

“Saskatchewan,” corrected Renfrew. “It is a story 
of a haunted house.” 

“Wow!” said Bub. 

“Shut up !” warned Dick. 

“Shut up yourself !” suggested Bub. 

“In Saskatchewan!” said Renfrew, and a silence fell 
about the camp fire. “It was up in the Cypress Hills 
27 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


country that I met with this adventure,” said Renfrew. 
“I was riding from Regina to Fort Walsh.” 

“Embry, the farmer, first put me on the scent of the 
trouble, and it’s a funny thing when you look back on 
it that before I ran across Embry on his farm outside 
Airelyn I met Corporal Woodcott and Ginger in the 
Fort Walsh Road, and parted with them. I had seen 
their scarlet tunics from a distance and I rode hard all 
morning to catch up with them. And when I overtook 
them, Woodcott gazed through me as though I was thin 
air. ‘Cheero,’ he said, without a note of warmth in his 
voice, and Ginger gazed at me stolidly, merely watching. 

“This, I afterward found out, was the way of 
Woodcott, and Ginger was suffering from liver trouble. 

“Woodcott was the sort of Englishman you always 
see pictured in funny riding breeches and a monocle. 
He didn’t wear a monocle and his breeches were regu- 
lation police blue with the yellow stripe. But he’d had 
his whole outfit retailored and he looked as if he’d 
stepped out of a pretty picture. He always spoke with 
an affected drawl as if it hurt him to speak, and his 
language was that of the comic Englishman in the 
plays. He was good-looking and tall, but his expres- 
sion of mild contempt made your fingers itch for a 
custard pie. He was useful among the Indians, who 
admired his calm, superior air; but among white men 
he raised too much trouble. So he was stationed chiefly 
among Indians. 


28 


CHASING GHOSTS 


“Ginger was big, too, and, remarkable enough, he 
was red-headed. He was very sullen ; you see his liver 
troubled him. 

“I rode with those two men in utter silence for two 
hours, then having found out that they were bound 
for Fort Walsh I decided that I was bound for Airelyn 
and parted with them at a crossroad. It was funny, 
because, if I had stayed with those two, things could 
not have happened as they did. 

“Two miles along the road to Airelyn I came upon 
the Embry homestead and a bright sort of boy in over- 
alls ran in to tell his dad about me. This boy was 
Arthur Embry, aged fifteen, and I was to see a lot of 
him. See him much too often, as a matter of fact. 
Embry came out from behind the house, and, after 
putting my horse up for me, he took me about his farm, 
telling me all about it. I stayed to dinner with him, 
and after dinner went into his sitting room and we 
smoked together. He said he had something of a seri- 
ous nature to talk over with me, and on my inviting his 
confidence he informed me mysteriously enough that 
it was about the ‘old Tucker House/ 

“ ‘There's something amiss there,' he said. ‘It’s been 
deserted and falling apart for six years now, and yet 
people see lights in it sometimes, and those who dare go 
near it on a dark night talk of strange figures and 
queer sounds. The boys think it's haunted and won’t 
go near it for a cool thousand. Some of us have visited 
29 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


it (in the daylight), but we found no sign of visitors 
It seems to me something queer, whisky smuggling o 
something, is being hatched there. But there’s no mai 
for miles around who I’d suspect of such a plot.’ 

“‘Well?’ I suggested. 

“ ‘I thought perhaps it might interest you,’ he said. 
‘I think it ought to be investigated, and you, you’re a 
trained observer, you know. I thought you might find 
some clue or evidence we have missed. We could go 
over this afternoon.’ 

“ ‘When does the ghost walk ?’ I said ; and I almost 
called him Watson. 

“ ‘Not often,’ he replied. ‘People see it, or hear it, 
or something about once or twice a month. Always, 
of course, at night. Studdly’s wife saw a light there 
about two weeks ago.’ 

“ ‘Then we’ll visit the old house to-night !’ I said. 

“His face fell a little. ‘Why not this afternoon?’ he 
suggested. He was not a fighting man. 

“‘Afraid of ghosts?’ I asked, then quickly added, 
‘We’d stand a better chance of getting to the botton 
of things at night !’ So it was arranged that we woulc 
make our investigation that night. 

“We talked the matter over, and he told me more 
about the Tucker House and its history. While he sat 
nervously cleaning a mighty revolver which might wel 
have blown up the ancient shell we planned to visit, ant 
I read him a lecture about the danger of using fire 


CHASING GHOSTS 


*rms hastily, a horseman rode up to the fence outside 
md hailed Embry cheerily. Embry went out and re- 
turned amost immediately with Constable Chester 
West R.N.W.M.P. to whom he introduced me. Chet 
West was a tall, black-haired, black -browed Cornish 
man who had attained the fullest glory of manhood 
without ever leaving his boyhood behind. We quickly 
became friends, and after I had explained my own 
position, and the adventure we had planned for the 
night, he took command of the party, since this was 
his regular patrol and the peace of the countryside was 
in his keeping. 

“We spent the afternoon about the farm, West ex- 
plaining to me the custom and methods of the cattle- 
men in his district. Also he told me of the famous 
Charcoal case with which he had been connected. A 
queer story which you must hear some day. We were 
in the bam when an extremely small boy galloped into 
the yard, bareback, on a wiry pony, and spoke excitedly 
with Mr. Embry. Embry came in and told us that 
this was Billy Hamilton come to tell him that Arthur 
was five miles away spending the afternoon with the 
Hamilton boys, and could he stay to supper. We de- 
cided that this was an excellent way to leave us a 
clear deck for the night, so Billy was bidden tell Ar- 
thur that he could stay for supper and spend the night 
- if he liked, and away bounded Billy with his message. 

‘The three of us supped together and I found my- 
3i 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


self more and more attached to Chet West as the eve- 
ning passed and I came to know him better. Then at 
about eight-thirty we set out, three abreast, for the 
scene of our adventure. 

“It was a night of brilliant moonlight; so brilliant, 
indeed, that the effect of the illumination was defeated 
by the elusive shadows which it cast. Thus a tree on 
the side which faced the moonlight was nearly invisible 
since the strong light made it one with the fields behind 
it. On the shadow side, however, the gaunt, distorted 
image which it cast made it seem all out of shape and 
wildly disproportioned. 

“We rode three abreast along the road bathed in this 
queer moonlight, and as we alternately threw back shad- 
ows across one another or well nigh dissolved into the 
surrounding scene, according to our oft-changed posi- 
tions and the winding of the road, we each seemed to 
have something ghostly about us, and it made the jour- 
ney an eerie one. 

“Embry rode nervously, and he frequently felt of 
his mammoth revolver as though to reassure himself 
by the knowledge that he had it. Noticing this, I re- 
peated my warning of the afternoon. A man unaccus- 
tomed to firearms uses them too hastily. 

“As we came to the brow of a hill, Embry drew us 
to a halt. 

“ ‘It’s down in the valley beyond/ he said. Tf we 
32 


CHASING GHOSTS 


ride to the brow of the hill we will be seen in silhou- 
ette/ 

“So we rode back onto the prairie and passed over 
the hilltop among dwarfed oak trees which were black 
under the moonlight. The hilltop crossed, we rejoined 
the road again, for the moon was low and the road was 
shadowed. It fell away before us in a long slope and 
far below, about a mile away, I should think, it wound 
down and disappeared into a funnel-shaped patch of 
deep black brush, wdiich stood out like a stain on the 
silver-gold prairie land. 

“ That’s a ravine, wdiere that brush is/ said Embry. 
The road runs through it. If you look hard you can 
see the old Tucker House on the left-hand side of the 
road just this side of the brush/ 

“For my part I strained my eyes, trying to make out 
the house ; but its outlines were lost in the black clump 
of brush beyond. We all sat in our saddles on the hill- 
side peering into the night, when suddenly with all the 
magic of an action done far away by a person unseen, 
a light appeared. And by that square of light seen 
through a window the house took shape before us all. 

“ There’s the light !’ whispered Embry hoarsely. 
There’s something there !’ 

“ ‘How many doors to the house ?’ asked West coolly. 

“ There’s a front door and a back door,’ replied Em- 
bry, with his eyes glued on the flickering light. T 
think there’s a cellar entrance on the far side, too.’ 

33 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“West did some quick thinking. ‘Right-o!’ he said 
‘You and I will ride well apart down the open on this 
side of the road. I don’t think they’ll see us unless the 
moon comes up over the hill behind. I’ll leave you this 
side of the house at the left-hand corner where you 
can watch the windows on the side and the back door. 
You ride down the right side of the road, Renfrew; 
make a detour through the brush and approach the 
house to your extreme right. From there you can 
cover the cellar door and back door, too. When you 
fellows are in position give me an owl call. It’s easy. 
Like this! (He gave a correct imitation of an owl 
inquiring as to some one’s identity). Then I’ll go in 
the front door and interview Mr. Firefly. All set?’ 

“After Embry had practiced the owl language for 
a little and had got his pronoun perfect, we were all 
set ; and obedient to orders I set my mount off the road 
and cantered down the hill over the soft prairie land 
on my mission. 

“Having skirted the brush along the far edge of the 
ravine, I dismounted and led my horse, through the 
bushes and stunted trees, across the road and thence 
through the brush till I came abruptly to the clearing 
and there across a rod or two of open land lay the 
haunted house, gaunt and gray, a weird silhouette 
against the moon with the eerie light flickering in an 
upstairs inner room. Just as I came to the clearing I 
heard a sound which suggested a cow which had just 
34 


CHASING GHOSTS 


lost its favorite calf. This sound came from the other 
side of the house, and I knew it was Embry, all ex- 
cited, trying to imitate an owl. I was afraid this noise 
would give the alarm so I halted only long enough to 
make my horse fast in the brush and mark its position 
before I ventured forth. The house was long, and I 
turned to walk toward the rear. As I did so, I fancied 
I caught a movement of some elusive shadow at the 
edge of the brush. I hesitated to look again, but de- 
ciding that it was a freak of the moonlight on the 
stunted trees, I made haste to assume my position. 
Once there I gave the signal, noting as I did so that the 
light still flickered. The intruders had not yet taken 
alarm. 

“My call given, I waited for a space, conscious of the 
stillness of the night and of the sinister suggestion of 
that flickering light. West was entering now at the 
front, and I would have given a lot to be with him. 
What if he were fired on! I found myself tensely 
awaiting the shot, my hand on my pistol butt. Then 
things began to happen. 

“Far off to my right a horse whinnied, and I turned 
to investigate. As though on wings, a silvery shadow 
of horse and rider was darting away from the brush. 
I made for my own horse, and swinging into the sad- 
dle gave chase. 

“Vaguely the horseman appeared and disappeared as 
he crossed and recrossed the moonlight before me. He 
35 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


headed for the road, and leaning far over my horse’s 
neck I rode to cut him off. He dodged, riding for the 
open prairie, and I rounded on him, urging him toward 
the brush. Once he was headed that way, I turned my 
more speedy horse to cut him off and so, at a mad 
gallop, I came up beside him and seized his bridle rein. 
Prancing, we came to a halt, and face to face. He was 
in the full stream of the moonlight, and I recognized 
him at once. It was the open, guileless face of the boy, 
Arthur Embry! 

“ ‘Gosh ! Mr. Renfrew, you gave me an awful 
scare,’ he said. T thought you were one of them.’ 
And he motioned toward the gaunt house which, from 
this side, was gray-green in the full light of the moon. 

“ ‘Arthur !’ I cried, and I felt a good bit cold with 
the thought that West might need me even now. ‘What 
are you doing here ?’ 

“ ‘I came back and found you all gone,’ the boy re- 
plied. ‘So I came on here.’ 

“ ‘Come !’ I said. And together we rode toward the 
house once more. The light still burned in the win- 
dow, and I pictured West keeping a still watch upon 
the ghostly inhabitant from some black corner, while 
he awaited our assistance. I felt eager to hurry back, 
but I was loath to risk a betrayal of my coming by the 
beating of hoofs. Then suddenly the light flickered, 
vanished, reappeared, and went out as though strug- 
36 


CHASING GHOSTS 


gling men had extinguished it. Careless of horse then, 
I galloped up to the house. 

“ 'Stay outside !’ I ordered Arthur, as I leaped from 
my horse at the point where Embry should have been, 
and confident that I would find him with West engaged 
in heaven knows what business within, I vaulted in at 
the nearest windowless casement. As I stumbled to my 
feet inside, the front door opened with a mighty crash 
which reverberated through the empty shell, and in 
the moonlight I made out West. 

“ ‘Renfrew !’ he said in a whisper. ‘I thought you 
were off chasing ghosts/ He had been unable to get 
in the front door, and reconnoitering for a window 
which would give him easy entrance, he saw me go off 
on my chase. Whereupon he stayed outside and kept 
watch from across the road on that light, knowing it 
to be evidence of the intruder’s presence. When the 
light disappeared he forced the door, and found me 
there. This he told me in whispers. We had no flash- 
light, but we each possessed a dark lantern, and with 
the aid of these we found the stairs. Smelling vilely 
of rats and decay, the old house creaked and groaned, 
and the stairs, broken and rickety, seemed to cry out as 
we ascended them. We made the top, however, with- 
out seeming to have caused a stir, and once there West 
made for the room from which it seemed the light had 
come, while I guarded the stairs. Soon he returned. 
‘No one there!’ he reported. 

37 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“You know we examined every niche of that infer- 
nal house, becoming more careless of exposure and of 
the noise we made, as we went from room to broken, 
desolate room. The house was bare, desolated, and 
empty. Yet no one had been seen to leave it. Finally 
in a front room we found a piece of board with a mess 
of candle grease on it. We examined it by the light of 
our lanterns. 

“ ‘This explains it/ West said. ‘The candle was not 
blown out, as we thought, it burned itself out. They 
left it behind without extinguishing it. A good trick. 
This house was empty when we first arrived/ 

“ ‘But who are they ?’ I cried. ‘What do they do 
here?’ Together we searched the house, but in the 
elusive light of the moon and the insufficient glow of 
our lanterns we found no clue to the mystery. 

“ ‘We must examine it by daylight/ said West. 
And with that poor solace we turned out once more, 
mounted our horses, and struck the road toward Em- 
bry’s farm. Both Embry and the boy had disappeared, 
and I concluded that the rancher, who felt nervous of 
this man-hunting business, had found his son, and 
taken him home to bed. 

“We had proceeded but a little distance up the hill, 
when West suddenly reined in. ‘Listen!’ he whis- 
pered. 

“Well in front of us was the unmistakable sound of 
many hoof beats. A party of horsemen was riding in 
38 


CHASING GHOSTS 

front of us, and peering ahead we could see the vague 
movement of the mass on the hillside. 

“ ‘We’ll ride round over the prairie and cut them 
off,’ West whispered. So we urged our mounts up 
the embankment and were soon riding cross-country, 
cutting off a bend in the road. As we cantered along 
my eye caught a shadow out on the prairie far to our 
right which seemed to skim along in a course parallel 
to our own. I called West’s attention to this. ‘Go get 
him !’ he said. Til shadow these fellows/ 

So once more I found myself galloping over the soft 
soil, cutting off another eerie, ghostlike figure. I found 
it easier to ride this man down, for he urged his horse 
across me in a straight line for the road. 

“I gained so swiftly on him that, too late, he swerved 
but, before I had his bridle in my hand, we were far 
from the point where I had left West. 

“ ‘If this is young Arthur again,’ I said to myself, 
‘I shall spank him.’ 

“But it wasn’t Arthur. It was his father, his face 
haggard with fear. He, too, had thought his pursuer 
was evil, and in panic had even forgotten the youthful 
cannon which he carried. 

“After a brief explanation, in which I found that 
I had interrupted his journey home, we rode back to 
the road, but could find Vio sign of West. I felt a little 
anxious lest he had tackled our party of horsemen 
single-handed, but I reasoned that nothing serious could 
39 


RENFREW OF THE ROYA L MOUNTED 

have happened without any noise betraying it. Then 
Embry plucked me by the sleeve. I turned and found 
him pointing down the hill. And there was a light in 
the window of the old house!’ 

It was a flashing light which appeared and disap- 
peared. Suddenly it glared into my eyes, and I knew 
it was a powerful electric flash. I told Embry this. 
'Has Arthur got one?' I asked, remembering the boy. 
He shook his head, surprised at my question. 'Don’t 
think there’s a thing like that this side of Swift Cur- 
rent,’ he said. 

" 'They’re back again ! Come on !’ I answered, turn- 
ing downhill. 

" 'We’d better get West,’ he said. But I was already 
on my way, and he valiantly fought down his reluc- 
tance and followed me. 

“We dismounted under the bank of the road, and 
left our horses there in the black shadow. I wanted 
to get there before the intruders escaped, so we made 
all the haste we could ; but as we moved I noticed that 
Embry transferred his cumbersome weapon to his coat 
pocket. 

“We entered the house by the broken front door, he 
following closely on my heels, pressing against me. I 
didn’t want to show my light — it would make too fine 
a target. We moved slowly in, and stood, hearing our 
hearts beat in the narrow hall. With every nerve alert, 
we waited and soon we heard a sound. It was the 


40 


CHASING GHOSTS 


sound of a foot carefully placed upon an ill-chosen 
board. The sound came from upstairs. I loosed the 
holster of my pistol, and slowly ascended the stairs, 
knowing every step. I crept up noiselessly, and Embry 
crawled behind me. Once at the stairhead we strained 
our nerves once more to hear a telltale sound. It came 
in a sudden whisper. ‘Some one in the house/ I heard 
the whisper say, and it came from a room at the back. 
We slid toward the rear, along the balusters, striving 
desperately to make no noise and to avoid a streak of 
moonlight which entered through a little high window 
and betrayed a door into the room we sought. Here, 
at the back of the hall, I placed my lips close to Em- 
bry's ear, and conveyed to him rather than whispered 
an order to remain there; then I moved inch by inch 
toward the door. Inch by inch I moved forward until 
I found myself with nerves a-tingle inside the room. 
I found it illuminated fairly well by moonlight stream- 
ing in through two windows. It was light in the room, 
and there was no man there ! 

“Standing flat against the wall in a black shadow, I 
examined the room with my nerves probing every cor- 
ner of the rotten old house. I soon made out a door 
evidently connecting this room with the front one in 
which we had found the candle. I decided that our 
men must at that very minute be in that front room. 
Had only West been my companion I could have de- 
pended upon him to hold the stairs. I decided that as 
4i 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


it was I must take a chance with Embry and began to 
move slowly to the connecting door. Then suddenly 
the ghostly game was brought to a showdown. Embry 
over the stair wall, dislodged some rotten piece of 
wood, and it fell to the bottom of the stairs with a 
shocking crash. There was an exclamation in the next 
room and several men rushed out recklessly, and one 
went crashing down the stairs, the noise of his footsteps 
grinding through the rotten wood and rending the air 
like thunderclaps in the empty house. Then the door of 
my room was thrown open and Embry dashed across 
the shadow into the moonlight: ‘Renfrew! where are 
you ?’ he cried. ‘They’ve found me out.* And so they 
had. An exclamation called the man back who had 
rushed downstairs and I heard the gang coming up the 
hall after us. I was very angry at the manner in which 
Embry had thrown us on the defensive. 

“ ‘Quick ! Through here !’ I cried, and ran over to 
the connecting door, but it would not open ! Then they 
came to the blackness of the other door where they 
could see our forms in the vague moonlight. Embry 
stood in front of me clutching his weapon like a wolf 
at bay, and as the other door was thrown open, he fired, 
filling the house with a fearful noise. I snatched the 
gun from him and a voice spoke from the blackness, 
‘Blithering idiot !’ said the voice. ‘Hands up !’ ordered 
another, and they had us helpless, silhouetted before 
them. Then the first voice spoke with the tone of an 
42 


CHASING GHOSTS 


invalid trying to make conversation with a dear old 
lady visitor. ‘Oh, Gingah/ it said, ‘are you hurt? , 
‘No/ growled the answer. ‘I’m so glad/ drawled the 
first voice. ‘You know, I hate this sort of thing.' 

“The voice was unmistakable. 

“ ‘Woodcott !’ I cried. And he flashed his electric 
torch as I flashed my dark lantern. There in the door- 
way stood Woodcott and Ginger with the figure of a 
ranchman. 

“‘My word!' said Woodcott. ‘It's Renfrew.' And 
he spoke with precisely the same enthusiasm as might 
mark the utterance of a grocer's clerk, tired of his job, 
upon the discovery of a sack of beans. 

“As we rode back to Embry’s farm we provided one 
another with explanations. We could not very well 
ride five abreast so we grouped, changing places as we 
chose to talk together and shouting backward and for- 
ward as we desired to speak to some one before or 
behind. So we got our information in scraps of con- 
versation. 

“ ‘His name's Hamilton/ explained Woodcott to me, 
referring to the ranchman who accompanied him. ‘We 
came to his place about four miles up the road after 
we left you. So sorry you couldn’t go on with us, old 
fellah. I’m afraid we were putrid company. It’s 
Gingah ; his livah's out of whack.' 

“‘Hamilton told us about the Tucker place/ said 

43 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Ginger. ‘And we set out for it to-night. Must have 
arrived after you and West left/ 

“ ‘That’s why I sent Dick and Wally over to sleep 
with Arthur/ Hamilton shouted back to Embry. 
‘Wanted ’em out of the way/ 

“Embry rode up beside Hamilton, and I know that 
he was explaining that Arthur was supposed to have 
spent the night at Hamilton’s place. So I rode up and 
joined them to tell Embry for the first time how I had 
ridden Arthur down. 

“ ‘What the devil is it all about ?’ cried Hamilton. 
‘Who’s the filthy herd who use the Tucker house? I’ll 
swear our boys have nothing to do with them.’ 

“ ‘And where can West have got to?’ cried Embry. 
Which question worried me not a little as well. So we 
urged our horses forward, feeling that all our delin- 
quent friends would be awaiting us. But on our arrival 
no sign or sound was there. The boy’s bed had not 
been slept in and his pony was gone from the barn. 
Embry was on the verge of weeping and we all felt 
the need of sleep. Yet it was obviously impossible for 
us to retire with the boys unfound and West conceiv- 
ably a prisoner of the Tucker crowd. It was decided 
to ride over to the Hamilton place, but first Embry 
prepared coffee for us and we sat about his fireside 
drinking it. Peculiarly enough the imperturbable 
Woodcott was a vast relief to us all at this time. He 
44 


CHASING GHOSTS 


took our minds from the fears which haunted them 
with stories of polo in India. 

“He was telling of a nervously intelligent mare he 
had once ridden, when the door opened and West came 
in. 

“He seemed full of life and vigor as when I had 
met him in the afternoon. His face showed no fatigue 
and his eyes sparkled with a boyish mirth. He greeted 
us all and sundry, then bade us all sit again as, with 
his eyes still twinkling, he filled a coffee cup. 

“Woodcott, who had greeted West without the 
quiver of an eyelash, subsided into his chair once 
more. 

“ ‘Her name/ he said, ‘was Nellie/ Of course he 
was talking of the mare, but we stared at him as if he 
was daft. 

“Then we explained all over again for the benefit 
t/f West. He listened with great restraint till we had 
finished, and started showering questions upon him. 
Where had he been ? What did he know ? Who were 
the Tucker gang? Where were the boys? How? 
Why? Wha*? 

“ ‘Be calm f Be calm ’’ he said. ‘I know just who 
the Tucker gang is. And I know where the boys are, 
too. They’re not at your place, Hamilton. Now 
what I want to know is, Are all your horses saddled ?’ 

“They were and we told him so. Then he took us 
out, and mounting himself, he bade us ride with him. 
45 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Obediently we followed him, and when the anxious 
fathers found he would answer no questions, we all 
rode silently. The moon had waned now, and the 
stars paled, as the cold mists rose from the hollows to 
meet the dawn. 

“We rode in a miniature cavalcade back along the 
road of our adventures till we came to the hilltop. 
Here West turned from the road and led us off cross- 
country till we came to a place of rolling hills and 
sudden landslides which dipped to a shining stream. 
We followed the ridge along the landslides till we 
came to a more gentle bank, and here we dropped to 
the river side and rode until we reached a knoll with 
stunted oak trees on it. Here on the knoll was the 
smoldering remains of a camp fire, and a number of 
figures lay about it rolled in blankets. 

“We dismounted at some distance and West bade us 
surround the sleepers while he aroused them. So we 
let him go forward and took our places at a distance. 
As we closed in I noticed that the light of a new day 
had come upon us so gradually that it seemed sudden, 
and there was a golden fringe along the eastern hori- 
zon. We saw West go forward, and, dropping to one 
knee, gently arouse one of the sleepers. The awak- 
ened one suddenly sat up and we saw it was a tousle- 
headed boy — quite a youngster. ‘Cheese it P he yelled, 
trying to scramble to his feet; but West’s hand was 
heavy on his shoulder. At the boy’s shrill warning, 
46 


CHASING GHOSTS 


seven more tousled heads emerged from their blan- 
kets, and blinked at us and at the morning. Then they 
stared about them, not trying to escape, rather awed 
by the force surrounding them. And, indeed, we must 
have appeared an imposing array. Four tall Mounted 
Policemen with vivid scarlet tunics and the brilliant 
yellow stripes on their riding breeches, all sparkling 
in the sunrise and two ominous, able-bodied fathers. 

“Embry and Hamilton moved forward as Arthur’s 
head emerged from the blankets, but West motioned 
them back. He went over to where Arthur sat. 

“ Tell me all about it, Arthur,’ he said. 

" ‘Why, it’s the Explorers’ Club,’ said Arthur guile- 
lessly. ‘Us boys have had the club for a year now. 
We go out together and explore all the trails, and hills, 
and ravines and woods and rivers — and make maps of 
’em. We’ve always used the Tucker place for meet- 
ings. It’s a fine, mysterious place. And we sort of 
liked it when people got scared about the lights and 
noises and so forth. We went over there to-night — 
last night; but dad warned us that you people were 
coming when he mooed like a cow. Mr. Renfrew 
nearly got us when we made for the brush, but I guess 
he didn’t see us much. Then I’d mixed up everything 
so, telling dad I was staying at the Hamiltons’ and 
letting Mr. Hamilton think we was staying at our 
house, we thought probably it would be best to sleep 
out. So we went back to Hamiltons’ and got all the 
4 7 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


blankets we wanted. How did you find out where we 
were ?’ 

“West laughed, a fine, friendly laugh. "Mr. Renfrew 
and I found you fellows just in front of us when you 
were riding away. I shadowed you here, and then 
went back and brought our party along. Let’s be get- 
ting back to breakfast.’ 

“So we all rode back like a cavalry division and had 
the happiest, jolliest breakfast party at the Hamilton 
farm that I can remember ever attending. The boys 
weren’t punished — not while we were there, and we 
four Policemen rode on to Fort Walsh together. I 
quite got to like Woodcott before we arrived. 

“I remarked to him what a splendid adventure it 
had all been, and he calmly looked through me as he 
replied, 

“ Terf’ly ripping,’ with all the excitement of an en- 
thusiastic fisherman opening a can of sardines. 

“And now,” said Renfrew suddenly, “we’d better be 
getting home ourselves or we shall lose breakfast en- 
tirely!” 

Shouting, laughing, and questioning, the boys rose 
to their feet. 

“Yea, Explorers’ Club,” yelled Bub Currie. “Some 
club.” 

“Wish we had one like that,” said Alan. 

48 


CHASING GHOSTS 


“When md where do we meet again, Mr. Ren- 
frew ?” 

“Before an open fire in my library,” said Renfrew. 
“A week from to-day. How's that?” 

And “that,” it seems, was a very fine plan, indeed. 
So it was arranged. 

The ghost story had been told ; the incident had come 
to pass, and as he walked home that night the idea 
germinated and spread its clean shoots through the 
mind of Alan. 

“A club just like that one,” he thought. “And a 
trip of exploration/* 


CHAPTER III 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 

Alan, hugging his knees on the great bearskin rug 
before Renfrew's open fireplace, turned and addressed 
Renfrew who sat in a corner of a roomy Chesterfield 
with boys piled high about him. 

“It's a club," he explained. “We got it up among 
us fellows during the week, since that night at Pin 
Factory Cut. We want you to be the president of it." 

“Yes, I know," said Renfrew, gazing clear-eyed at 
the boy. “I gathered that, but the name of the club. 
What did you say the name was?" 

Alan grinned. 

“It's the Explorers’ Club," he announced. “We’re 
going to do just what Arthur Embry and those fellows 
did. Only nothing deceitful, I think, like that sleeep- 
ing-out affair." He caught Renfrew’s eye and grinned 
again. “We’ve got the first trip all planned, if you’ll 
go with us. We want you to be president of the club." 

“Will you, Mr. Renfrew?" pleaded the voice of Bub 
Currie. 


50 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 


“Sure! Go ahead,” urged Eddie Adams. 

“We’re going to explore the Marapo first, ” declared 
Dick Rose, enticingly. “It’s great. Only you’ve got 
to go with us.” 

“As president of the club,” explained Billy Loomis. 

“Ex-officio,” said Renfrew, silencing the boys with 
his voice. “I don’t think you ought to have a presi- 
dent though. Why don’t you elect a leader and call 
him 'Chief Guide’; then the secretary-treasurer man 
would be called 'The Woodsman.’ I’ll be sort of presi- 
dent ex-officio and you can name my office that of 
‘Medicine Man.’ Hold your elections after our meet- 
ing to-night. Now what was it I heard you say about 
planning a first trip?” 

“Up the Marapo,” said Alan. “School is out to- 
morrow, so in a week or two we can start. My people 
are willing as long as you camp with us and most of 
the fellows say their parents think the same way. We 
can get canoes at Sawyer’s Falls.” 

“That’s nine miles from here, on the river,” said 
Billy Loomis. “We can hike over there and Mr. 
Chapin will take our packs over in his car. The 
Marapo turns into the river fifteen miles up. It’s 
awfully wild up there. Right in the hills.” 

“That sounds good,” said Renfrew. “I think we 
might do that. We could have some fine camps on the 
river banks. I believe the Marapo’s pretty rough 
further up, though. You fellows will have to be ready 
51 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


for hard portages and stiff pulling against rapid water.” 

“We've thought of that,” said Alan. “You can 
teach us how it’s done. They say there are swift cur- 
rents up there. White, rushing water, where the dead 
logs have fallen into the river and make white bars, 
and we'll have to mind the rocks getting around them. 
And they say there are strips of yellow sand under the 
banks, like the seashore where we can camp and swim !” 

“They say the woods are as thick as all get out, down 
to the waterside,” chimed in Billy Loomis, “and cranes 
and snakes come out of the rushes when the canoes 
push in.” 

“Fish!” yelled Bub. “They jump up at the flies! 
And the water is clear, just like crystal, but cold! 
Golly!” 

“Where’ll we go?” asked Howard Hough. 

“Anywhere,” said Alan promptly. “That’s the fun 
of it. We explore. Like Alan Quatermain” (his fa- 
vorite hero, which explained in a way his attachment 
to Renfrew) “looking for lost places,” he said. Ren- 
frew reached out with one hand and rumpled Alan’s 
fair hair. Alan always said the thing which stirred 
his memory. 

“Or places that have never been found,” suggested 
he. “I remember doing both once, with West. You 
remember Constable West. We searched for a trail 
together, and found a valley no one knew existed. 

S2 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 


Lovely, it was; cut off from civilization for years. 
Since the Klondike gold rush. A lost valley.” 

There was a breathless moment while the boys stared 
eagerly at him, waiting for his words. 

“Throw a log on the fire,” he said, and sparks flew 
up with a sharp, crackling sound as one of the boys 
obeyed him. He watched the sparks reflecting as the 
boys moved restlessly making their places comfort- 
able. 

“We were seeking a trail,” he began, “and had made 
a splendid trip together in a light birch-bark canoe. 
We came down the Dead Bear River, and on a fair 
spring day we reached the lake in the valley. This 
was not the valley of our adventure — that lay on the 
other side. We were at the threshold, as it were ; out- 
side the closed door. The only entrance — 

“But I’m leaping ahead. 

“At Fort Walsh I had been thrown in with West 
a great deal. It was there I did my first work with 
the Force and for months I acted as his assistant. He 
was the senior of every officer and constable at Walsh. 
He had served with the Police nearly twenty years. In 
the Cypress Hills, in the Yukon, in South Africa with 
the Strathcona Horse. Yet he never seemed an older 
man than I was. Wiser, yes ; of a vast vision in the 
ways of white men and red. But, well, it was fine to 
have him for my chum. When he was moved to the 
post at Peace River Crossing we took counsel together 
53 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


and played our cards so that I was ordered to Peace 
River Crossing as well. 

“Early in our work in the North some brilliant mind 
thought of the Dead Bear Pass. The Dead Bear River 
started in a promising, deep green cascade in the Rock- 
ies, north of Fort Liard. It tumbled down into the 
mountains and — that was all, it disappeared in the 
mountains. Further south, the turbulent Liard came 
rollicking down to the MacPherson and it was thought 
that somewhere in its checkered path the Dead Bear 
joined it. But what happened to the Dead Bear in the 
mountains ? What did it do there ? How was it lost ? 
You see? The tracing of that river through the un- 
trodden passes which it followed might mean many a 
weary mile cut from some more tortuous trail and 
the saving of many a life lost in the untracked moun- 
tains. 

“So there we were, the two of us, after splendid 
days of travel ; days all too short in the early northern 
springtime, yet each day was given the illusion of many 
by the multiplicity of adventures which it contained. 
I believe no one before us had traveled so far in a 
continuous journey down that stream as we had by 
the day we came to the end of the beginning of the 
Dead Bear River, the spot in the mountains where it 
disappeared. 

“For two days before we had found the mountains 
closing in on the river, squeezing it more closely be- 
54 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 


tween their granite banks. This became more and 
more pronounced until we found ourselves in a deep 
canon where the water sometimes rushed deep be- 
tween high walls of rock. The strip of sky above us 
became narrower and narrower and further removed 
as on we went, and the rock walls which were the river 
banks became so steep that we went on with a dread in 
our hearts lest we be hurled over some hidden cataract 
all unable to make a landing before we reached it. 

“This dread gave way to a grim trust in Providence, 
for the banks of the narrow river soon became sheer 
palisades of rock, rising a thousand feet or more above 
us ; and we knew that we must take whatever fate had 
in store for us, for we could never have stopped our 
mad rush down the torrent then. 

“We hoped for the best, and we found it. Our fear 
was that the rapids would become all too fierce for our 
frail craft and lead to a cataract which would bring us 
to our end ; but the break in the gorge came first. The 
river grew wider, and the palisade on the right bank 
retreated from the river till a gradual slope of broken 
rock lay between it and the river brink. Further back 
fell the cliff, and calmer became the water, till the trees 
grew on the slope as it became more gentle, and the 
banks dropped to the river in a shallow dip. Then sud- 
denly the narrow walls fell apart and we entered a 
calm lake. We didn't know it then, but we were in 
the anteroom to our adventure. 

55 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“Picture a mountain lake. It is shaped like a horse- 
shoe and we entered it from the river, high on the bend 
of the shoe. It is surrounded by rocky banks covered 
with a forest of black pine trees and beyond the forest, 
towering like a gigantic wall about the lake, stand the 
palisades of rock thousands of feet in height. Only 
on one side of this lake is it bare of forest. Across 
the base of the horseshoe the naked cliff falls to the 
waterside. The clear blue sky is cut out in an irregular 
patch by the prisoning cliff and the lake reflecting it is 
a vivid, placid blue as well. This is where the Dead 
Bear stopped and we knew it was where our work be- 
gan. 

“We landed and made our camp in the bend of the 
horseshoe, glad after the tense anxiety of our journey 
for the quiet of the imprisoned lake, and the beauty of 
it. The sky turned red along the rim of the cliff behind 
us when the sunset came and the towering wall which 
dropped to the lake opposite us was turned to a cliff of 
burnished gold. In the morning, after a breakfast 
eaten in the darkness while the sky reflected the ghost 
of an invisible dawn behind the mountains, we set out 
to explore the lake. 

“We used the canoe, paddling about the edge of the 
mirrorlike lake which turned from a rosy pink to gold 
and then gradually to a soft blue, save where it re- 
flected the immensity of the mountain wall. It was 
plain that this was merely an opening in a long gorge 

56 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 


through which the river ran, and we first sought for a 
continuation of the chasm which would be the river’s 
natural outlet from the lake. 

“As we looked up the gorge from which we had 
emerged, it was noticeable that the surrounding pali- 
sades came gradually together till the wall on either 
side of the river met and merged as railway tracks meet 
and merge in the distance. So we sought for such an- 
other meeting in the palisades. West scanned the 
walls which surrounded the lake closely till he dis- 
covered that the naked cliff which dropped to the 
water’s edge ran in a straight line down the valley. 
It did not turn to join the opposite semicircular wall. 
Rather, in the distance, the barrier which circled the 
lake swept in a curve toward it, and at a far-off spot 
the two walls seemed to merge. We decided then that 
the continuation of the gorge must lie in a line fol- 
lowing the foot of the naked cliff. So we beached our 
canoe and with packs on our backs we set out to follow 
the wall. It was plain the river did not continue its 
course here. What should have been its bed was a 
mountain of broken rock, huge bowlders heaped high 
like a giant gravel pile, with thick brush over-grow- 
ing it. 

“We started the ascent of this obstruction at about 
seven in the morning. You see we hoped that at some 
unknown spot the river left this Shut-In-Lake (that is 
the name we gave it ; the name you will find on a topo- 
57 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


graphical map to this day) underground, perhaps under 
this very mountain we ascended, and resumed its bed 
in the gorge beyond. We started our ascent at about 
seven in the morning and so steep was the obstruction, 
so heart-breaking the climb as the loose stones gave way 
under our feet and the brush uprooted in our torn 
hands, that night fell before we reached the summit. 
We were torn and gasping with the tremendous exer- 
tion of the climb, and we dare not venture forward in 
the dark, so there we made our camp and there we 
spent the second night at the closed door. 

“When morning came we crossed the summit of our 
great stone heap. It was an unbelievable distance 
across and traversing it had much of the hardship 
which the ascent had given us. Sharp, broken stones 
which cut our boots and bruised our feet and legs ; and 
when we saw the gorge below it, no river was revealed. 
No sign of water, only a deep, rugged crevice where 
a river had undoubtedly once tumbled and rushed. 
That scene and our explorations for the day proved to 
us the impracticability of the Dead Bear Pass. No 
party could cross that barrier with packs and horses 
or canoe, and we, afoot and unburdened, found it a 
dangerous, tricky game, making our way for half a 
mile above the rough, dry river bed. 

“So we returned to our Shut-In-Lake where the 
Dead Bear disappeared. Our search seemed a failure, 
and the return up that spirited stream with our ob- 

58 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 


jective unachieved loomed darkly before us. We were 
hot and parched, bruised and dirty, as we slid rather 
than climbed down the slope to the edge of the clear 
water. We removed our clothes and plunged into its 
cold depths. We plunged about in the water and 
romped on the shore — I remember we played leap-frog. 

“I looked at West’s fine, brown body. He was a 
big fellow with an immensely wide chest and rippling 
muscles under a glowing skin. He was strong. Yet 
there under the towering cliff (you had to bend your 
head far back to see the top) with the giant barrier 
flung all about us, he appeared like a tiny, well-propor- 
tioned boy. A boy like those of the fairy tales whom 
you could pick up in one hand. 

“He took his canteen into the water to fill it, and it 
got away from him. He plunged after it, and, per- 
versely, it bobbed away, coming to the surface magic- 
ally far out from shore. We were close to the cliff 
and the canteen made toward it as though pulled by 
an invisible string. West looked for it in the wrong 
place, and, when he spied it, it was close to the rock. 
I stood on the shore and laughed while West swam 
after it. Then before our eyes the canteen, bobbing 
serenely, approached the sheer rock and vanished as 
though swallowed up. We stared. . . . West trod 
water and blinked. . . . Then together we swam after 
it and with our feet on solid rock we looked into the 
pl ace — the tunnel, the cavern, where the Dead Bear 
59 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


calmly, slowly, without hurry or turmoil, flowed into 
the mountain ! 

“ That must have been an avalanche/ said West 
that night at our camp fire. He referred to the moun- 
tain of broken stone we had just traversed. ‘Its fall 
must have shut the river from its natural bed, and, 
rising in this lake, it found that outlet.’ He waved 
his pipe toward the frowning cliff opposite. ‘We’ll 
follow it in to-morrow.’ That was all he said, ‘We 
will follow it in.’ Do you understand?” 

Renfrew looked into Alan’s shining eyes directly, 
earnestly. 

“ ‘Follow a mountain river into the bowels of the 
earth. Into heaven knows what ramifications, what 
waterfalls, and rapids.’ — That was all he said, with his 
black eyes thoughtful in the firelight. Of course he 
was thinking of where our journey was to end. You 
see? 

“In the morning, our packs high on our shoulders, 
we followed it in. We opened the closed door, and 
passed through. 

“It is hard to tell you of that journey. How there 
was headway above the water’s surface as we entered 
the tunnel breast deep in the cold stream. How the 
light through that headway disappeared and we moved 
forward in pitch blackness. How we felt our way foot 
by foot, nay, sometimes inch by inch, stumbling, fall- 
ing below the surface, shouting to one another, anxious 
60 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 


for each other’s safety. Sometimes we found a nar- 
row shore along the side of the tunnel. Once we de- 
bated for a moment, shaking hands solemnly without 
seeing one another, before we plunged under a place 
where the roof touched the water. We dashed our 
heads when the roof became abruptly low, we bruised 
our legs on unseen rocks and were sometimes hurled 
down unseen falls. Finally, we saw a dim light ahead. 
Unexpected, undreamed of, we had mentally decided 
that this black pilgrimage must come to nothing . . . 
or worse . . . you know. And an ominous murmur 
came with the light. I struck the rapids first, blindly 
falling into them over an unseen step. I went help- 
lessly with the rush of water, clutching vainly for a 
hold against it. As luck had it I was flung with a 
stunning jolt against hard rock. I clung to it des- 
perately, deafened by the roar of falling water and 
dazzled by a stream of sunlight. A red mass came 
hurtling down the rapids toward me, and, with one 
hand grasping the rock, I reached out, snatching at 
West’s body. I seized his belt and with my arms 
nearly torn from their sockets I drew him slowly in. 
He locked his arm in mine and aided me. It seemed 
hours before he was beside me, and we were both 
pressed against the rock by the mass of water. 

“This was the end of the tunnel and my rock had 
saved us from a plunge over a hundred-foot waterfall 
as the river emerged from the mountainside and fell 
61 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


to a valley below. When we recovered from our ex- 
haustion we joined the ropes we carried and fastening 
one end to our rock we swung down, West first, till we 
found a scanty foothold beside the cataract and after 
a perilous descent we collapsed wearily on the top of 
a wooded slope. 

“There on the slope under the foot of the mountain 
we camped, lay still all the afternoon, and slept late 
on the following morning. We were chilled by the 
night air but our clothes were hardly damp when we 
surveyed the valley in the morning from the cliff be- 
hind us which towered straight and high as the cliff 
which barricaded Shut-In Lake; the hill fell away to 
a pretty, peaceful valley. The waterfall to our right 
continued in a tumbling stream which disappeared into 
the woodland below only to reappear as a silver strip 
further down the valley and form a peaceful lake, and 
beside the lake we discerned with indescribable amaze- 
ment a community of log houses, and, from the chim- 
neys of several of these, smoke curled lazily aloft. 

“I say we were amazed. It is an inadequate term. 
These were unmistakably the houses of white men, and 
the nearest white settlement we knew of was one hun- 
dred and sixty miles away ! 

“We made up our packs and descended the slope. 

“The thing happened as we approached the bottom 
of a hill. I heard a resonant twang, as though some 
one had picked at a bass chord of some invisible harp. 

62 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 


It startled me, sounding in the profound silence of the 
utter wilderness, and something shot by my ear, sing- 
ing through the air. I turned to West and discovered 
him frowning, with blood streaming down his cheek 
from a cut above his ear. Angrily I leaped into the 
brush at the sound of the plucked chord, but nothing 
was there; we found nothing, nobody, although we 
scoured the woods. It was a slight cut and we stopped 
the flow of blood with cold water. 

“As we approached the settlement on a well-trodden 
trail we came upon three men. They were quaint, 
gaunt men, browned by the sun and clad in garments 
of ragged cloth and crudely prepared skins. They 
appeared at first to be Indians, for their long hair was 
braided and hung forward over either shoulder, but 
their complexions and their beards betrayed them. One 
was venerable, with hair of dirty white ; another, quite 
young, had brown hair; the third was the most re- 
markable of the three. He had a face like a vulture 
with black eyes set so close to the ridge of his nose 
that his face appeared deformed. He was tall and his 
dark black hair made his narrow face appear nar- 
rower than was natural, and it accentuated the high 
and protuberant cheek bones which seemed as high 
almost as his eyes. All three of these queer men car- 
ried long bows and a sheaf of arrows was stuck in the 
belt of each of them. Strong, crude bows they were, 
made obviously for the deadly use of men in dire need. 

63 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Remembering West’s wound I eyed the three men 
searchingly, thinking the man who had shot that arrow 
might betray himself. Their eyes searched us as well, 
and none of us betrayed what was in our minds. 

“ ‘Good morning,’ said West steadily. 

“ ‘Where did you come from?’ demanded the vener- 
able one, getting to the point at once. He seemed to 
speak eagerly. 

“ ‘We came down the waterfall,’ said West, shift- 
ing his searching gaze to him. 

“The old man sighed. 

“ ‘You cannot help us,’ he said. Then as though to 
explain himself, he added, ‘It ain’t myself, you know. 
I’m thinkin’ of the young fellers.’ 

“The tall man with the deformed face interrupted 
harshly. ‘Come on,’ he said, and, turning, he made 
his way down the trail. 

“We followed our remarkable guides.” 

Renfrew, with his arms about Dick Rose’s slim shoul- 
ders, leaned forward a little, as though to conjure in 
the blazing embers a more vivid picture. 

“You know an adventure of this sort,” he said, “like 
the flying in war time, like all incredible, unbelievable 
things which happen to a man, takes its place after- 
ward in a sort of attic of remembrance. A nook of 
vague memories to which one goes on a night like this 
and brings them out into the light. And in a workaday 
world they seem fanciful, and like a dream. I know 
64 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 


this thing happened. I can see West before me, the 
bloodstain on his face, following those incredible 
guides in the clear silence of the wilderness path. And 
yet you know it seems impossible. It is a difficult 
thing to explain. . . . 

“One thing beside the alert, capable figure of West 
and his intelligent eyes, keenly awaiting the unex- 
pected, dominates the memory I have of this adven- 
ture. It is the man Greeve. The vulture-faced man 
with the long black locks. He seemed always present 
when we spoke with any of the people in the settlement. 
I gathered the impression somehow that he feared we 
might gather undesirable information. Afterward I 
discovered that I was right. 

“The settlement consisted of about twenty-four peo- 
ple. They lived in the log houses and seemed to sub- 
sist on the bounty of nature almost wholly. It surprised 
us that every sign indicated a total lack of communica- 
tion with the outside world. The utensils necessary 
to their daily tasks and livelihood were without excep- 
tion, rusty, broken, worn; frequently they had been 
replaced with crude substitutes fashioned by hand from 
materials provided by nature. Bows and arrows, and 
sling shots had replaced the guns which hung rusty on 
the cabin walls, useless for lack of ammunition. Some 
rude endeavor had been made here and there to plant 
corn and to cultivate the wild berry bushes. The set- 
tlement was notable for the ingenious inventions which 

65 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


had taken the place of utensils common to the simplest 
life in civilization. These things were interesting, but 
they emphasized to us a growing fear that the valley 
in which this community lay had no way out. That it 
was in short a splendid, open prison. And so we 
found it. 

“We questioned Greeve who held us always trans- 
fixed with a taciturn and disapproving eye. He gave 
us little information except to assure us that there was, 
indeed, no way out. ‘You will live and die here/ he 
said. And he seemed to derive a sinister pleasure from 
that thought. When we asked him how the valley was 
found he shut up, and he nearly snarled in an exuber- 
ance of anger and distrust. 

“Later we questioned the venerable man whose long, 
thick beard gave him a benevolent, fatherly appear- 
ance. Greeve was present as usual, sitting at the fire- 
place of his cabin where we were his guests — or pris- 
oners. He looked away from us who sat around a 
table in the center of the cabin. It was after a meal. 

“Ethan Jude, which was the old man’s name, seemed 
a little fearful of Greeve. Greeve, despite the fact 
that his voice was harsh and his snarl a ready one, 
was dictator of this colony. There seemed to be no 
children in the group, indeed, there were few women 
folk. Young men there were, but of a shy and surly 
disposition. Three of them I saw. Most of the 
wretched handful were people past their prime/’ 

66 


THE RIVER WHICH WAS LOST 


The door of the library opened almost noiselessly, 
yet by the sound of that little noise Renfrew seemed 
to sense the presence of the intruder and her identity. 
He leaped to his feet and the boys about him were scat- 
tered in wild confusion. It was the gray-haired lady, 
his mother, and the boys stood upon their feet and 
watched, scarcely understanding, the gentle manner of 
his greeting and the protective care with which he ap- 
proached her and took from her a tray she carried. It 
was almost as if she was some strange princess who 
had then and there arrived from some foreign country 
and, out of sheer helplessness, demanded an especial 
courtesy and consideration. It occurred to Alan and 
Bub and Dick and Billy at the same instant that here 
was a long cry from the high Northwest and Shut-In 
Lake and from all turbulent and rugged things. 

“If it ever occurred to you youngsters,” said Ren- 
frew’s mother, with her hand upon his tall shoulder 
and encircled by his long arm, “that you could ever 
consume some chocolate layer cake, some fruit jelly 
with whipped cream on it, and some lemonade, why, 
there it is, and now is the time to do it. I hope I 
haven’t interrupted a story.” 

“Why, yes, you have, you dear little mother,” an- 
swered Renfrew. “And we’re glad you did, too, be- 
cause right at that particular moment the story de- 
manded that the loveliest lady in all the country should 
come in with just the precise burden that you were 

67 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


carrying, and sit by the fire in the most comfortablest 
chair in the whole room and listen to the rest of it. 
Didn’t it, fellows?’’ 

“Yes, it did.” 

“You bet it did!” 

“Yes, Mrs. Renfrew!” 

“Here, sit here!” 

“No, she’s going to sit here !” 

“No, here, by me !” 

And while many hands drew up a goodly number 
of chairs for the gray-haired lady, Renfrew, the tall, 
the impassive, the big and strong, drew the lady to 
him and kissed her on both her cheeks, and before them 
all, he let her kiss him, as well. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE CLOSED DOOR 

Enthroned, then, beside the fire, sat the gray-haired 
lady. After the turmoil of clinking spoons and tinkling 
glasses had somewhat abated, she sat with them all and 
listened ; and while the boys lived through the story as 
it fell from Renfrew's lips, she lived it, too. But there 
war this difference: the boys saw a brave adventure 
unfold before them, and that was all, but who could 
tell what was in the mind of the gray-haired lady as 
she sat looking into the fire? There was the brave 
adventure clearly enough, but with it was something 
of pride for the tall, strong redcoat who strode through 
it so manfully with West ; something of a fear which 
could not be forgotten merely because it was all over 
before she had even heard of it, and something of sor- 
row, too, and pity, for events which, for the boys, were 
overwhelmed by the adventure. 

“Let me see,” said Renfrew, “where did I leave off?” 

He was amply reminded. 

“Jude was telling his story,” was the essence of these 
reminders. 


69 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“Oh, yes. That was it. Jude was telling his story. 

“They, too, it seemed, had entered this valley 
through the tunnel which we had traversed. But in 
that time the river had not run through it. There was 
gold in this valley. It was that which had brought 
them. And the Dead Bear passed down the gorge. 
Shut-In Lake had not existed; the river had gone 
straight by in that time. 

“They had come up the Dead Bear. I gathered that 
it had been a desperate and cruelly hard journey. They 
lay at rest in Shut-In Lake valley (remember there 
was no lake there then, only the river running across 
the base of the horseshoe). I asked Jude where it con- 
tinued down the gorge. Sure enough it had run in a 
bed where the great stone pile lay. 

“As the old man unfolded his story, developing it in 
a halting manner, urged by many questions from West 
and myself, Greeve watched him closely, and, I thought, 
nervously. 

“These people were a party of farmer folk from 
Minnesota. They had been lured to the North by tales 
of gold. It was in the time of the Yukon rush and, at 
the time they started, a never-ending stream of pack 
trains was rushing up the Four Passes from the sea 
to the bitter Klondike. Rushing in a turmoil of poorly 
equipped argosies and finding there the scant, cold 
welcome of the North. No food or stores were there 
to replenish the frantic hordes, and many failed in 
70 


THE CLOSED DOOR 


their quest for gold, or perished on the tundra, en- 
gulfed in the fierce rush which they had joined. 

“This party, though, was made up of shrewd farm- 
ers, and they did not go blindly into the adventure. 
The gold rush had been afoot almost two years when 
they joined it, and they feared the failure from lack 
of stores and provisions on the manifold passes from 
the sea. But they had a resolute and indomitable 
leader. Whatever were his faults, it was Greeve who 
put fire in the party then, and, maintaining their spirit 
in bitter hardships, through untrodden places, he led 
them over unsurmountable obstacles, and, as it devel- 
oped, achieved a journey that no man had ever made 
before. 

“His plan was to avoid the crowded ways which the 
gold-mad horde took by boat to the North and over 
the Four Passes into the Yukon, and so to avoid also 
the peril of famine which that great mass brought with 
it to the northern wilderness. To do this, he led 
the party up to Edmonton, from Edmonton to the 
Peace River, thence to Fort Liard and from there he 
attempted to invade the Yukon from the east. This 
was before the attempts made by Routledge and Moodie 
of the Mounted Police ; and Moodie well nigh perished 
in his journey while many, following the trail he 
opened, died in the attempt. So you can see that the 
assault which Greeve made on that bleak mountain bar- 
rier spoke of great courage and resolution in the man. 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“We questioned Jude closely about this. It seems 
that above Fort Liard they had found the mouth of 
the Dead Bear, and, fired by Greeve’s tremendous reso- 
lution, had faced its wild waters. Surmounting many 
obstacles of turbulent water, steep chasms and perilous 
ascents, they had made their way up the river to the 
place on the other side of the tunnel where Shut-In 
Lake now lay. There had been no lake there then. 
This fact is of the greatest importance. No lake had 
lain in that valley then. The Dead Bear had run 
straight down past the foot of the naked cliff. We 
questioned Jude about the stone pile which we had 
climbed, and he made a great show of ignorance. 
Greeve interrupted us then, and in his turn asked about 
the barrier, while Jude plucked nervously at his beard 
with his old, dull eyes on Greeve. Greeve wanted to 
know about the barrier. It had not been there, he said, 
when they came ; only the river running past the cliff. 
It must have been a landslide, he declared, and that 
had filled the valley with the lake until the water 
reached the tunnel. 

“The tunnel, it seemed, had been high and dry above 
the river when they came ; no doubt a river bed in hun- 
dreds of years gone by. And it was through that tun- 
nel they had entered the valley. As they lay at rest in 
the Shut-In Valley, some one had discovered the tun- 
nel, and they thought it a cave in the mountainside. 
Jude had explored it; he and Greeve and another man 
72 


THE CLOSED DOOR 


named Centnor, and of course they had found it not a 
cave but a tunnel which opened on this valley. And 
here they had found gold — the gold they sought; the 
gold they had left their American farm lands to dis- 
cover. They had settled in the valley, Jude explained, 
and mined their gold, washed it out, you know. And 
then this thing had come upon them one day, all un- 
expectedly. The water had rushed through the tunnel 
and had overrun their gold mine. Also it imprisoned 
them. 

" 'But surely/ I said, 'there must be a way out/ 
Had they explored? Yes, they had followed the river, 
had roamed for miles through the mountains, but al- 
ways it was too rough. They were too badly equipped. 
Their ammunition failed. Good God ! Couldn’t I be- 
lieve them? They had tried. Greeve had taken a 
party down the river. They were killed in the rapids ; 
all killed save Greeve and one other, and here they 
were. Rich ! Hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth 
of gold! As useless as sand! It wasn’t for himself 
he cared, Jude explained. He was old. It was the 
younger ones. Two of these younger ones, I found 
out, were his sons. 

"We questioned him more closely, and we questioned 
Greeve as well, and you know as the story unraveled 
like a skein with their answers, we saw a terrible and 
pathetic situation exposed. 

"Often I have read fanciful and improbable stories 

73 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


of peoples and kingdoms, and lost races who have been 
imprisoned for centuries by natural barriers — an im- 
pregnable cliff or precipice, or a surrounding desert. 
But because I know that no such natural barrier can 
exist I have never found these tales plausible enough 
to be interesting. Yet here was a lost colony, isolated 
in the wilderness, as completely imprisoned as though 
surrounded by iron bars. And yet a river found an 
outlet from the valley where they lived, and the wild 
mountain country about them betrayed no unnatural 
or insurmountable barrier. Why, then, were they shut 
in ? Why could not the indomitable leader, whose reso- 
lution brought them this far on the perilous journey, 
lead them out to civilization ? We probed the two men 
with questions and we found that the indomitable lead- 
er’s courage had been broken by his first failure and 
calamity; that these people were imprisoned by fear. 

“When Greeve had taken out that expedition to fol- 
low the river down, he had taken his pick of the best 
men and the youngest men of the party. But though 
they were strong, and their strength had served them 
well to ascend rapids and clamber over rough portages, 
they had never guided a frail canoe down a moving 
wall of foamy water inclosed by granite cliffs, and in 
such a pass the expedition met with defeat. The 
canoes were smashed, and the men went down the white 
water with the splintered fragments. Only Greeve 
and one other survived. That other man died quickly, 
74 


THE CLOSED DOOR 


his skull being crushed, and Greeve returned alone. 
He returned alone, and his nerve was broken. The 
rest were like sheep without him. Without him they 
could never have left Minnesota. He still ruled them, 
he alone could organize them in the struggle which they 
now faced with the elements. Several times they set 
out into the mountains seeking a pass, but found the 
country too rough. The river was the only way and 
Greeve would not try the river again. So, with no 
spirit to challenge the forces which locked them in, they 
fought those forces for their very existence. And the 
longer they stayed, the more impotent they became to 
attempt an escape. Their ammunition gave out, their 
clothes and equipment failed them. They became as 
savages without the resource of savages. A terrible, 
hopeless position. 

“I could not face it for myself, and I know West 
would never consent to stay imprisoned so. I asked 
Greeve if he would lead us down the river ; but in great 
agitation he refused. He could never face that river 
again. He told us of its danger and entered into a 
detailed description of it. As it descended in the 
mountains it became too fierce for any human being 
to cope with, he explained. The high walls closed in 
upon it. It was certain death. I remembered our trip 
down the Dead Bear, our plunge through the black 
tunnel. Nothing could be more trying than that had 
been, I thought. 


7 5 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“ ‘Let us try for a way out/ I said to West. 

“Greeve rose to his feet and stood glaring at us. 
‘No!’ he shouted harshly. 'You will not! There is 
no way out of here. I tell you no way out F 

“West looked at Greeve for a moment, and he 
clamped his lips together. Then, ignoring the excited 
man, he spoke to me. 'Right-o F he said. 'We’ll start 
to-morrow.’ 

''Greeve said no more. He subsided, and as West 
and I took up our plans together, he spoke in muffled 
but angry tones with the old man, who I thought 
seemed to shrink from the things he said. Later they 
got up and went out together and we heard them 
speaking in low, excited tones outside the door. Greeve 
soon returned to us and we told him our plans. It was 
simply to follow the river as we had followed it be- 
fore and trust to luck, to Providence, to God, for a 
safe journey out. We knew it would be impossible 
to go out through the tunnel as we came in ; to breast 
the rapids in the dark. To swim up under water where 
the roof of the tunnel touched the surface. You see? 

“Greeve was silent and only West and I spoke as we 
got to bed. That night I awoke in the dark and found 
a form leaning over my bed in the blackness. I caught 
a man’s arm in both my hands and held it while the 
unseen one struggled to free himself. I called out, 
and West, leaping up, took the man off me. I lit a 
candle and it revealed Greeve pinioned in West’s grasp. 
7 6 


THE CLOSED DOOR 


On my blanket lay a carving knife, its pointed blade 
ugly in the light. Then the door was thrown open 
and old Jude entered with wide, excited eyes. ‘Greeve,’ 
he cried. T must speak with Greeve.’ 

“Greeve pulled himself up erect. ‘Get out of here !’ 
he cried to the old man. And furthermore he told him 
vividly where he could go. The old man turned to the 
door. ‘Come and see me right away/ he pleaded. 
‘Something I’ve got to tell you/ And then he went 
out and closed the door. 

“ ‘Wanted food/ said Greeve sheepishly then ; and 
he pointed to the dried meat laying on the table which 
we had moved over to a spot beyond my bed. ‘I got the 
knife/ he explained. ‘Must have stumbled across your 
bed in the dark/ 

“West, the knife in his hand, moved over to the door 
and opened it. ‘Eat with Jude/ he said. ‘And stay 
there the rest of the night/ 

“Greeve looked at him, measuring the man ; and then 
saying no more, he left the cabin. ‘Oh, Greeve/ cried 
Jude’s voice outside. ‘I want to speak with you.’ And 
I heard Greeve cursing as West shut the door and 
bolted it. I heard more, too. I heard it through the 
window, which had only a skin to shelter it. West 
blew out the candle and that, I think, threw the old 
man off his guard. ‘Don’t harm these men/ he said. 
‘To kill them may be the end of us. They may never 
77 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


get out, and if they do they can never find the body. 
They can’t hang you if they can’t find the body/ 

“ ‘Shut up !’ cried Greeve. And the voices ceased. 
I told what I had heard to West and the next day we 
took our secret with us down the river. 

“It was more than a month after that when we re- 
turned. Of course we found a way out and we came 
upon Fort Liard and the Liard River unexpectedly, 
while we still wondered wearily how long the hard- 
ships and the dangers of our journey were to continue. 
So we made our way back again with supplies and 
tools for building boats with which to bring out the 
exiles and their gold. 

“When we arrived at the lost valley once more we 
made our way amid a little group of excited, voluble 
outcasts, who were verging on hysterics to find their 
way to civilization open once more. News of our 
coming had preceded us and we found Greeve standing 
at the door of his cabin. He leaned against the postern 
wearily and his eyes were unnaturally bright as he ob- 
served us. We must have appeared painfully smart, 
well clothed and well fed, brilliantly uniformed among 
that ragged crew. 

“West explained how we had found the way and 
how sorry he was that they had missed it. ‘We are 
very sorry/ he said gently. ‘Had your own expedi- 
tion got a little further all would have been plain 
sailing. Of course you had not the equipment/ He 
78 


THE CLOSED DOOR 


regarded the man whom he addressed closely. Greeve’s 
beady eyes, close together in his vulturine countenance, 
were burning. As West spoke he breathed heavily, and 
more heavily, seeming to repress a tremendous agita- 
tion. His face was scarlet. 

“West explained our plans. We would help the 
exiles to stake out their valley, then we would all re- 
turn. He had supplies and tools with which to outfit 
the expedition. Later we would come down the Dead 
Bear to Shut-In Lake and attempt to make a new out- 
let for the river. If we took it away from the tunnel 
the water would drain from their gold field. Then a 
new colony would be established here and the mine 
worked. We would try to blast through the landslide 
which barred the river. 

“Greeve reared up suddenly and a fiendish light 
leaped into his eyes. He shrieked a wild, rending shriek 
like a tortured lion, and with the shriek he dashed 
forward at West. Jude and many others drew him 
back, holding him fast. West, observing him, coolly 
stepped forward and laid a hand on his forehead. He 
made an exclamation. ‘The man’s in a fever,’ he said. 
‘Pneumonia, surely! Get him to bed.’ 

“Greeve, white now, or rather gray, gazed at West 
steadily. ‘It is all over then,’ he said. ‘You will find 
his body. I shut out the whole world to hide him, but 
you have found me out. I shut out the whole world.’ 

“His head fell forward on his chest and they car- 

79 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


ried him into his cabin. It was pneumonia sure enough, 
and in four days the man was dead from it. But he 
told his story first — what we did not get from Jude. 

“Greeve had killed a man. It is not important why 
he killed him, that is one of the bitter, dreadful things 
the grim palisades must always hide. The man’s name 
was Keelan. On the day Greeve killed him they had 
been working together, digging in the base of the great 
cliff in Shut-In Valley where they alone believed gold 
was to be found. The crime committed, Greeve threw 
the body into the river which promptly threw it upon 
the rocks, giving it up again. For days Greeve felt 
the presence of that body threatening him with the 
halter. He knew of the Police work in the mountains 
at that time. It was in the gold rush for the Klon- 
dike, and Steele and his force, working from Dawson, 
ran down all evildoers relentlessly. The people in the 
valley would want an explanation of Keelan’s absence 
— and then the redcoats would come, he knew. So he 
came back to the valley, and procured dynamite, all 
he could get together. To hide that body he blasted 
away the face of the cliff, and, as he said, 'something 
happened.’ Why, I cannot tell you (nursing his secret 
alone, until to save himself from madness he confided 
his story to the patriarchal Jude — to regret his confes- 
sion immediately — the poor wretch could never know 
himself), but the explosion tore away the great cliff 
to its very turrets and it fell in the great pile of stone 
80 


THE CLOSED DOOR 


which I have described to you, barring the Dead Bear’s 
course. This done, and the body literally swallowed 
up by the earth, Greeve made his way back to the val- 
ley, silent and scared. Then the river, shut in, filled 
the opening in the gorge until it rose to the tunnel which 
in its time had no doubt been a riverbed. It found the 
tunnel, and its waters closed the door; shut out the 
dreaded redcoats; shut out the world. 

“Greeve, thereupon, by his courage and resource in 
that time of terrible stress, made himself the leader 
of that group of outcasts. He had to lead, you see, for 
he had to prevent any one finding a way out. He led 
the only expedition which was sent, and deliberately he 
brought it to disaster. He had a mad obsession that 
the door must not be opened. When we entered the 
valley he tried to slay us. When we tried to get out 
he attempted our lives again. A tragic, futile man.” 

Renfrew stopped abruptly. The boys were a little 
silent and thoughtful. 

“He closed the door,” murmured Alan, staring at 
the flames. 

“He shut out the world, and he shut out life itself 
from his fellows,” said Renfrew 

Suddenly he arose, flinging boys co right and left 
as he did so. 

“Then it’s up the Marapo!” he cried, stamping his 
feet to bring the circulation back to them; and the 
boys, becoming suddenly active, burst into full cry; 

81 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“Up the Marapo !” they cried. 

“Yea, Explorers’ Club!” 

“Oh, you West!” 

“Some story!” 

“Closed the door!” 

Various inspirations moved them, and in the mean- 
time Renfrew turned to his mother. 

“If I leave you again for the wild turbulence of 
the Marapo ; for life in the wilderness with these rough 
men, will you forgive me?” 

There followed an awful moment. What if Ren- 
frew’s mother wouldn’t let him go? 

“My mother said it’s all right,” pleaded Alan. 

She pondered it. The suspense was horrible. 

“Very well,” she assented finally. “For two weeks.” 
And the watchful Alan could have sworn that behind 
her grave face there was the ghost of a smile. 

Renfrew kissed her. 

“That’s a good mother,” he said; then to the Ex- 
plorers’ Club: “We’ll meet here just a week from to- 
day. Then we’ll make plans for the trip. We’ll have 
the next story at our own camp fire,” he said. 


CHAPTER V 


THE FEAR OF WHITE WATER 

“Supposin' a fellow upset in these rapids. D’you 
suppose it would probably drown him?” Bobby 
Granger, the youngest member of the Explorers’ Club, 
shivered as he glanced at the white rushing waters of 
the Marapo, and fortified himself with an extra large 
bite of bread and bacon against the thought of the 
coming perils of the afternoon. 

“Sure it would,” a voice from the circle gathered 
around the noon camp fire replied with cheerful non- 
chalance. 

“Bowl him down from bowlder to slippery bowlder; 
and he’d be knocked unconscious and drowned !” This 
from Billy Loomis, who was a senior in high school 
and knew many things. 

But Renfrew spoke. “Don’t cry wolf, Billy,” he 
said. “D’you suppose I’d take you fellows up this 
stream if an upset meant sure death?” 

Bobby, only partly reassured, glanced doubtfully at 
the tall, broad-shouldered young man. This was the 

83 


— ROYAL MOUNTED 


second day of the club’s first long expedition in search 
of “lost places,” and Bobby’s nerves had been severely 
tried by the long morning of desperate paddling among 
rocks, snags, and treacherous cross-currents. His ca- 
noe had tipped and lurched until Bobby’s heart had 
been in his mouth half the time. And he wasn’t sure 
that he cared whether the Explorers’ Club ever found 
Lake Surprise, that diminutive blue spot on the Govern- 
ment Survey map to which, so the map insisted, no trail 
or footpath led. 

There was a quiver in his voice as he insisted, “But 
a fellow could never swim in water like this.” 

“Perhaps not,” said Renfrew, “but he could always 
walk if his stroke failed him. Haven’t seen a place 
more than four feet deep all the morning. Besides, 
Bobby, don’t you get the idea that a thing isn’t worth 
seeing through just because the doing of it scares you. 
If that were the way of men we’d still be hanging to 
trees by our tails.” 

“I wasn’t scared,” said Bobby, which was untrue. 

Renfrew looked at him with a quick glance, and it 
said to Bobby, more distinctly than words: “To be 
afraid of confessing a weakness is the worst sort of 
fear in the world.” Bobby knew that, and he felt 
very small. 

“Are rapids in the North like this ?” asked Alan, as 
he watched the whirling water. 

“Yes. Often. But I suppose you have in mind 
84 


THE FEAR OF WHITE WATER 


the very turbulent rapids which men call white water. 
They are much fiercer than this. They are like express 
trains of solid water. Only the surface of the great 
mass is disturbed ; a world of water, sweeping irresisti- 
bly by with a sullen roar. When it comes down to 
the canons where the rocks are, it thunders and raves 
like a mad monster; it sends up mountains of spume 
as it crashes against the granite, and boils and seethes 
in the crevices. When a man goes down in the rapids 
of the North, he doesn’t come back.” 

Renfrew looked at them and smiled grimly, remem- 
bering things. 

“Have you ever seen a man go down?” they cried. 
And Paul Hurlbut, who was more explicit, tagged 
along with “Down in the rapids, I mean?” 

“There was Red Angus,” said Renfrew, the grim 
smile still wrinkling his bronzed face. 

“He went down?” asked Eddie, in the pause which 
followed. “And was killed?” 

“He went down,” assented Renfrew, “and was 
killed. But not in the rapids. No, that was another 
man, the man who was killed in the rapids.” 

There was a disturbance as the Explorers closed in, 
eager to hear the story they had angled for so skill- 
fully. 

“You know,” Renfrew said, gazing into the flashing 
water, “it isn’t easy in a true story to pick out your 
beginning. I think I’ll begin with telling you about 

85 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


the characters. There are three of them, two men and 
a boy. Fm not sure who is the hero. Perhaps I had 
better let you pick him out for yourselves. 

“There was Angus. The men called him Red Angus 
because his face was red and his hair and beard were 
fiery red as well. He was a massive, burly man and 
had been a white water man until his drunken fights 
and his bullying had made him useless to the company. 
A white water man is one who runs the heavy timbered 
boats with their tremendous loads up and down the 
white water of the rapids in the Northern rivers. This 
is a job which demands more strength than is possessed 
by most of the strongest men of the North. He must 
pit his bone and sinew against the fiercest force of na- 
ture — water run wild. Good men are hard to get 
for this job, so you may be sure that Red Angus of- 
fended badly before he was chucked. He made the 
men who worked with him so frightened of his red- 
hot temper, that they often refused to take boat with 
him. For some time after he lost his job he roamed 
the North Cheechaco, living from hand to mouth. He 
struck pay dirt when people began exploring and pros- 
pecting for minerals, oils and farmlands in the North. 
He made an invaluable guide and leader for such ex- 
peditions. People who knew nothing of his bad tem- 
per, or of his drinking which fed it, paid him a great 
deal to guide them. 

“In these expeditions he was always accompanied by 

86 


THE FEAR OF WHITE WATER 


White Arrow. That’s the boy. He was a Blackfoot 
Indian and about fourteen years old then. Heaven 
only knows where he came from. Indian youngsters 
are generally very obedient to tneir parents, so it is 
to be presumed that he had none, or that if he had hey 
were a poor lot. For this boy (Whitey, every one 
called him) was an adoring disciple of the man 
Angus — You know, some time in every fellow’s life 
a man comes along — just drifts in — and you learn to 
love him. Unconsciously you follow him and take up 
his spirit. You light your own torch from the one he 
holds. Be careful who that man is. 

“It was so with White Arrow. Red Angus became 
his god ; he had only a very vague idea that there was 
any other. He accepted the beatings Angus gave him, 
which were severe, sat silent and wide-eyed by the fire 
listening to his cursing, and on occasions ran errands 
for him, providing him with drink, serving him in good 
and in evil. White Arrow knew no other home than 
that place where Angus slept. On expeditions for 
which Angus played guide, Whitey was cook and dish- 
washer, general servant. Physically he was a very 
splendid fellow, indeed. Like all forest animals his 
whole body was rippling, elastic muscle, and his senses 
were as keen as a wolf’s. So much for White Arrow. 

“The other man was MacKenzie. 

“Stewart MacKenzie was a corporal of the Royal 
Northwest Mounted Police. Physically, he compared 

87 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


with Angus as a staghound compares with a grizzly 
bear. He was shorter — hardly six feet tall — and he 
was rawboned and wiry. In place of the blind fury 
which distinguished Angus, he possessed a cold, de- 
pendable courage which calmly faced death or bitter 
suffering as it had faced life, which had brought him 
bitter failure. This courage characterizes many 
Scotchmen. Its foundation and its keystone is faith. 

“MacKenzie was religious with a tremendous faith 
which lived through every blow of misfortune. His 
confidence in his God knew no bounds. His was a 
God of unswerving justice; and his duty was only tol- 
erable to him because he believed that, as a policeman, 
he was the instrument of that justice. With an in- 
spired confidence he was unswerving in the face of 
death itself. 

“Once in the Cypress Hills the tiny wooden church 
burned down. The minister, undaunted, command- 
eered the town saloon, concealed the stock of trade, 
swept the floors and made his temple there. The wor- 
shipers came and the service was about to begin, when 
through the door came a great hulking cattleman look- 
ing for drink. 

“With a stream of curses he demanded his liquor. 
The minister told him the new nature of the place and 
bade him worship or depart. On this, the intruder, 
greatly amused, declared his intention of shooting up 
the place. He drew his gun and warned every one to 
88 


THE FEAR OF WHITE WATER 


duck. Knowing their man, they ducked. Every one 
but MacKenzie. He came forward and spoke with 
cold anger flashing in his blue eyes, seemingly uncon- 
scious of the death which touched his side. 

“Dinna ye know, man, that this is the house of 
God?” he said, and his voice rang out clearly with its 
Scotch burr. “Do what ye will with yer gun, it is 
your way, God help you ; but do it on yer knees !” 

“The man swore, and MacKenzie struck him in the 
face. The man dropped his gun and sank to his knees. 
MacKenzie knelt beside him and the service went on. 
That was MacKenzie. 

“At the beginning of this story he was on duty at a 
lone post called Black Lake. It is in northern Sas- 
katchewan near the Manitoba border. 

“It was here at Black Lake that MacKenzie heard 
how Red Angus committed his murderous crime. It 
happened on the bank of the Yellow Knife River. One 
morning the party Angus was guiding had broken camp 
and stowed their packs in the boats. The camp had 
been pitched on the high and rocky bank of the river, 
about forty feet above the water. All the party were 
at the water's edge except Angus and one of his em- 
ployers who stood on the high bank above. White 
Arrow was up there, too. 

“There had been bad feeling between Angus and this 
man for some time. Some money had been missing 
and Angus or White Arrow was suspected. They were 
89 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


discussing the subject now and the men in the boats 
watched impatiently, because the white waters of the 
river were high, and, being freed of the heaviest an- 
chors, the boats were straining in the current. The 
argument became heated, and suddenly Red Angus 
flared in a fury of temper. The watchers in the boats 
saw their comrade scourge with words this red fury 
of the North; then with horror, saw Angus tear the 
wretched man from the ground, and lift him, kicking 
and shrieking above his head. For a long moment the 
man struggled there, foolishly; and then was flung 
down the bank, bounding hideously from bowlder to 
bowlder, and dropping finally into the water, a smashed 
and broken body. They saw the body swept down in 
the whirling waters of the Yellow Knife till it was 
folded under by the current; magically, terribly, their 
friend was gone. 

“In another sense Red Angus and the Indian boy 
were gone as well. They had disappeared into the for- 
est, and the deserted party found their unpracticed 
woodcraft useless to follow them. Without Angus, 
the boats were useless, too ; and so they set out to find 
civilization overland. Two of them lived to find their 
way in, and from the one of these two who could speak 
coherently — the other having gone mad — MacKenzie 
got the story. 

“Some hundreds of miles south of the wild barrens 
through which the Yellow Knife runs, is the settle- 
90 


THE FEAR OF WHITE WATER 


ment of Garton. It is a collection of wooden houses, 
weatherbeaten to a cheerless gray color, set down in 
the heart of the great brush-covered plains of northern 
Manitoba. Garton was surrounded by the changing 
sylvan beauty of the clean open, but it was a place of 
ugly habitations, and its inhabitants were lawless, un- 
couth, and quite as ugly. I suppose Kettering was to 
blame. This was part of his domain. He was the 
sheriff down at Poulton, twenty miles to the south, and 
closely in touch with the railway. Kettering was a 
politician. By virtue of his politics, Kettering held 
high office, which made him something more than ordi- 
nary. Because of the nature of his politics, which 
were dirty, he was something decidedly less. 

“To every town of the Canadian West comes a 
strangely assorted throng of waifs and strays at the 
closing of each season. In the late spring come the 
lumbermen through with the drive. In the winter 
come the harvesters, and those who have guided and 
worked the trails through the hunting season. In the 
summer there are the jobless ones. They come rois- 
tering into the towns, and riocously spend all they 
have made at their labor. Then, until their season 
comes again, they live in the jails and the cheap lodg- 
ing houses, always riotous, knowing no other pleasure. 

“Garton was a paradise for such as these. It had 
cheap lodging houses, cheap food, drinking and gam- 
bling halls, and ample credit. Every wastrel was a 
9i 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


voter, and his presence was beautiful in the sight of 
Kettering. Garton was always filled with a very con- 
genial crowd. Also it was in Manitoba, and here the 
Mounted Police had no power. It was out of their 
jurisdiction. 

“Red Angus, after the murder, made straight for 
Garton. There he could wait among kindred spirits 
until the chance came to slip out of Canada. So, in 
the course of relentless events, which a mounted police- 
man on the trail of his man followed relentlessly, Stew- 
art MacKenzie came to Garton, too. 

“Far to the north he had heard an Indian in camp on 
the brown banks of the Missatasek, tell of how he had 
been cheated in a game of cards at Garton, where 'the 
white man knows no law/ The cheat had been de- 
scribed as 'the great red worker of the White Horse/ 
This meant the White Horse Rapids of the Yukon 
which had taken the lives of many men and had been 
conquered by very few. Angus was one of the con- 
querors. So MacKenzie knew that the 'great red 
worker" was in Garton. 

“So MacKenzie came to Garton in the late summer 
when the wagon track and the brush were dry and yel- 
low, and only the winding water of the little river was 
cool. Here under the blazing August sunlight, the 
only music was the soft splashing of water as the trout 
leaped in the stream. By the stream the trees seeemed 
thicker and made cool, shadowed nooks, well screened 
92 


THE FEAR OF WHITE WATER 


from the wagon track. Into one of these nooks, on 
the river bank, about a mile from the settlement Mac- 
Kenzie drove his buckboard. It was noontime, and 
MacKenzie made his camp and prepared his meal. 

“First he had gone to Poulton. For, as I have said, 
Manitoba is not police territory and in Manitoba Mac- 
Kenzie had to cooperate with local authority. In this 
case the local authority was Kettering, the sheriff, as 
you know. 

“When MacKenzie came to confer with Kettering, 
he did not wear his scarlet-coated uniform, for he 
wished Angus to get no warning. He wore mufti. 
He had come from the railway in a hired buckboard, 
and, as he drove into the town, found himself the object 
of unwelcome attention. A small group of boys and 
other town folk watched him curiously as he drove 
up to the livery barn and a small group followed him 
over to the sheriff’s office. This office was a bare, 
one-story building of clapboards which resembled noth- 
ing so much as those miserable real estate offices which 
spoil the beauty of bits of suburban country various 
people are trying to sell to others. 

“MacKenzie had turned to face this group of spec- 
tators twice; once when he left the livery barn, and 
again before he entered Kettering’s office. The first 
time only one of all the group caught his attention. 
This was an Indian boy clad in a loose cotton shirt and 
a pair of long corduroy trousers which were prevented 
93 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


from slipping over his hips by a red handkerchief which 
he used as a belt. What caught MacKenzie’s atten- 
tion was the gleaming interest in the boy's dark eyes. 
He knew that the boy was committing his features and 
his figure to the infallible memory of the red Indian. 
The second time he faced the group of idlers, Mac- 
Kenzie caught this boy in the act of turning on his heel ; 
and MacKenzie watched as the boy cut lots with an 
easy, swift lope towards the woods. Of course Mac- 
Kenzie knew of White Arrow, and he knew then that 
a warning was speeding on its way to his quarry. This 
made speed imperative. But Kettering did not seem 
to think so. 

“MacKenzie knew what kind of man Red Angus 
was. Here was no blustering bully. A giant, rather, 
moved by a blind and reckless rage. Also, he was in 
the midst of a lawless crowd which it was to be ex- 
pected would be very drunk. More than fur might be 
expected to fly in Garton in the warm moments which 
would precede the arrest of Red Angus. MacKenzie 
wanted Kettering and two men to accompany him. He 
was in great haste, and he made his request with little 
ceremony. 

“Kettering was in no such spirit, however. He pro- 
tested that MacKenzie was not in uniform. How could 
he know he was of the R.N.W.M.P. ? MacKenzie pre- 
sented his proofs and warrants, hastily and with no 
ceremony at all. Again he demanded the assistance 
94 


THE FEAR OF WHITE WATER 


he would need. Kettering was 'anxious, of course, to 
do the right thing/ but this was 'a serious matter/ 
A murderer at Garton ? And the Mounted Police com- 
ing in for him ? It was hardly a case for the Mounted 
Police. This seemed so irregular — 

"At about this point MacKenzie knew with what 
manner of man he had to deal. He pointed out that 
the important thing at the moment was to get the other 
two men and start for Garton. A warning was al- 
ready on its way and they must win to Garton before 
it. Kettering was most disturbed. But this would 
not be possible. Two good men were not to be had so 
easily; besides he could do nothing without investiga- 
tion. This concerned the rights of a free-born Briton. 
He must get in touch with Regina, the capital, by 
wire — 

"MacKenzie was thinking of a tireless and fleet 
brown boy, loping steadily over short cuts known only 
to boyhood ; loping through the playing shadows of the 
bush ; a White Arrow speeding with its warning. He 
leaned over Kettering's desk with flashing eyes. 

" 'Man/ he said deeply, 'do ye not know the sacred- 
ness of God's justice or of man's? Ha’ ye no spine 
or heart in ye? On me soul, it looks as though ye were 
shielding the guilty!' 

"Kettering had little liking for the sound of that. 
It implied a crime which could ruin him. With an 
95 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


oath he cried : T swear to God I mean no such thing ! 
I swear — ’ 

“ ‘Yer easy familiarity wi* God gives ye an advan- 
tage in argument which I canna cope with !’ said Mac- 
Kenzie, and turning with disgust from the man, he 
stamped over to the livery barn, got his buckboard 
and was soon swaying and bouncing in the wagon track 
to beat the Indian boy to Garton, twenty miles away. 
He would face the warm moments of the arrest alone.” 


CHAPTER VI 


MAC KENZIE COMES BACK 

Renfrew regarded the boys with narrowed eyes. 

“That was a very brave decision MacKenzie made, 
don’t you think?” he said. 

“You bet it was,” said Billy Loomis, and 
very gravely Alan nodded his assent. 

“Did he have a gun ?” Paul Hurlbut wanted all the 
facts. 

Renfrew nodded. 

“Yes, he had a gun. 

“And now here he was in the deep green thicket by 
the river, a mile before the wagon track came to Gar- 
ton. He relieved the ponies of their harness and let 
them eat of the grasses which were green on the river 
bank. He changed his clothes and donned the scarlet 
tunic which he would have to wear in making the ar- 
rest ; then he made his fire and sat down to his midday 
meal. Through inquiry he had learned that from this 
point no trail came more quickly into Garton than the 
wagon track. Unless the Indian boy had seen him 
97 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


swinging down the wagon track at the best speed of 
his ponies, he would perhaps feel that he could reach 
Garton before MacKenzie could spur Kettering to ac- 
tion. To do so he would follow this wagon trail— 
There was no one in the world to know how full was 
the boy’s heart to save Red Angus in his dire peril ; 
only MacKenzie guessed it as he watched the trail. 

“After he had eaten, he lit his pipe and sat for a 
long twenty minutes while the flies droned and the 
trout leaped in the water. It was then that White 
Arrow came down the wagon track. He ran at a heavy 
dog trot, and it was plain that he was all but spent. 
He had somewhere thrown off his shirt so that he was 
stripped to the waist. His brown body was streaming 
with perspiration, and as he panted in great striving 
gasps, it glistened in the sunlight. His lips were 
strained back, revealing his shining teeth, and his legs 
moved mechanically, but more and more heavily with 
each step. Great determination shone in his brown 
eyes with a sort of frightened fire. 

“He was sore spent, nearly done ; otherwise his quick 
forest instinct would have sensed MacKenzie, or he 
would have caught some glimpse of the scarlet coat, 
and sought refuge in the brush. As it was, MacKenzie 
was upon him and had grasped him by the arm before 
he was aware of the redcoat’s presence. 

“Without a cry, but gasping and sobbing pitiably for 
the breath he could not get, the splendid little animal 
98 


MACKENZIE COMES BACK 


fought like a wildcat. His supple, muscular body 
seemed elastic in MacKenzie's grasp, and the film of 
perspiration which bathed him made him slippery. He 
twisted and squirmed in wild action from every hold 
MacKenzie could get. He kicked and bit and scratched, 
taking in return many scratches and cuts from Mac- 
Kenzie's metal accoutrement. And always MacKenzie 
could feel the boy's heart pounding madly under his 
glistening skin. And always there were the great gasp- 
ing sobs. Then, abruptly, with a terrible futile striv- 
ing for breath, the boy collapsed and MacKenzie found 
himself bearing a limp, insensible body in his arms. 

“Now tenderly he bore his burden to the riverside, 
and laid him on the long grass. The heart, weary of its 
pounding, was beating more quietly now, and the slim 
body hardly moved with breathing. MacKenzie 
worked for some time with the means of artificial res- 
piration to restore the boy to consciousness. And he 
worked, lost in wonder and admiration at the boy's 
good faith and sacrifice for the man he had chosen to 
follow. 

“When White Arrow came to, he strove to rise, but 
found himself weak. He spoke plaintively, and a 
strange man came and looked in his eyes with a new 
look. 

“The man spoke. 

“ ‘Nay, y’ puir wee laddie, lie still a wee; ye’re sore 
spent yet/ 


99 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“And behold, the voice was a new voice ! The voice 
and the look each bore something which White Arrow 
had never known. The contrition of the strong who 
have hurt the weak. The admiration a brave man 
has for bravery. The love a strong man has for a 
boy. All these came to White Arrow for the first 
time in his life, in MacKenzie’s look and in his speech; 
and the Indian boy went to sleep feeling like a tiny 
papoose wanting his mother. He did not know that 
he was bathed and rolled up in clean blankets while 
he slept, nor did he know that, this tender office done, 
MacKenzie took the wagon track to Garton and made 
straight for the 'Maple Leaf/ 

“The 'Maple Leaf’ was Garton’s only hotel, and Mac- 
Kenzie knowing his man, felt certain of finding him 
here in a room behind the bar-room where the idle 
inhabitants of Garton congregated to play cards. 

“He felt reasonably certain of what his reception 
would be. The Mounted Police had no authority here. 
He strode very determinedly to the back door which 
opened into his room, and entered. 

“Within there was a noisy crowd of ruffians pro- 
fanely pursuing their pastimes in a haze of poisonous 
tobacco smoke. When the door opened, and the red- 
coat appeared, a deathly silence fell. MacKenzie 
walked deliberately up to the table where Red Angus 
sat playing cards and spoke the proper words of ar- 


ioo 


MACKENZIE COMES BACK 


rest, warning Angus that whatever he might say would 
be used against him. 

“Angus turned livid white, and then a deep crimson 
red. He rose silently and towered over the redcoat 
who gazed at him with unflinching blue eyes; and all 
the ruffians who filled the room gazed at Angus, too, 
waiting to take their cue from him. It seemed a long 
minute that he stood there, dominating the room. In 
fact it was a mere second. Then he moved forward 
like a panther, pouncing upon his opponent. But Mac- 
Kenzie moved quickly, too. There was a great noise 
as every man in the room rose as one, and crowded for- 
ward — the wolf pack at the kill. 

“MacKenzie picked up a heavy timber chair, swept 
a circle around him with it, and met Angus' attack 
with the four legs. Some one drew a pistol and fired 
at him, but MacKenzie struck with the chair and the 
man went down. That gave Angus an opening, and, 
leaping in, he picked up MacKenzie like a child and 
flung him down, chair and all. The crowd was thick 
though, and MacKenzie was merely bruised against a 
table. With the assistance of this table he struggled 
to his feet and sought Angus — but Angus needed no 
seeking. He came, scattering the burly lumbermen, 
who were kicking viciously at MacKenzie’s body as he 
struggled to regain his feet. He reached MacKenzie 
only to find himself facing a large caliber revolver, 
IOI 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 

MacKenzie had managed to draw, and leaned against 
the table with his gun steadily prepared. 

“A chair of heavy timber came hurtling across the 
table from behind him. It struck MacKenzie’s arm, 
fracturing it above the wrist, and the revolver clattered 
to the floor as Angus seized the redcoat’s throat and 
bent him back onto the table. Then the table collapsed, 
and MacKenzie fell again to the floor. Angus stag- 
gered forward over him and with a quick movement 
MacKenzie arose. In his left hand he held the table 
leg, a formidable weapon, and as several men reached 
for the gun, he lay upon them with it. One man fell 
like an ox, another stumbled over a table, his stream- 
ing head buried in his arms. Angus now seized this 
weapon from behind him, and MacKenzie had six or 
eight men fall upon him, and come between them. He 
bore up under these for a moment. They were too 
massed to do more than strike him occasionally in the 
face and, like a crowd of schoolboys, try to pull him 
down. Once they brought him to his knees and blows 
rained upon his head. He knew that to go down under 
those caulked boots was certain death and, with super- 
human strength, he regained his feet. He was bleed- 
ing now from many wounds and his right arm was 
broken and useless. His legs were terribly bruised, 
and in one thigh was a knife wound. Then when his 
back was to a table and his foes thick upon him, Red 
Angus came back to the fray. 

102 


MACKENZIE COMES BACK 


“With a roar he flung himself upon the crowd sur- 
rounding MacKenzie and the policeman was hurled 
with terrific force against the table. With a sickening 
pain he felt his ribs give way and the breath was forced 
from his lungs. He sent his fist driving into the face 
of his nearest opponent and then went down. Hardly 
conscious, he wriggled under the table until his head 
and chest were protected by chair and table legs. But 
the rest of his body was kicked frightfully by the cruel 
caulked boots ; bruised by toe and heel and torn by the 
great nails. In frantic rage they strove to get his 
body out and at their mercy. But Red Angus inter- 
fered. 

“ ‘Don’t kill him, you swine !’ he cried. ‘He fought 
well !’ And, hurling the ruffians aside, he picked up the 
unconscious redcoat, carried the body to the door which 
he kicked open, and then, as though it was some sort 
of refuse, he threw the thing away. It dropped like a 
sack on the grass ; and like a sack it lay, the flies gath- 
ering around it. 

“When White Arrow, the Indian boy, awoke, the 
soft light of late afternoon had replaced the glare 
which vanished with the sun. And quiet was in camp 
and on the woods about him. He felt quite fresh, but 
his legs ached and were heavy; also, he had a sharp 
pain in his throat and his chest hurt when he breathed. 
He found that he was quite naked, and very hot and 
damp. So he made his way to the stream, and weakly 
103 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


stumbled into it. After splashing about in the water 
he felt better. Then he remembered his mission, and 
the redcoat. He knew he was too late to warn Red 
Angus, but in some way, Red Angus seemed smaller 
and more ordinary now. Another man had come to 
him, with a kind voice and blue eyes which had suf- 
fered with his suffering. He felt afraid of what Angus 
might do to this man. He knew the ways of Angus 
and of his friends. So, White Arrow slipped into the 
corduroy trousers and resumed his way to Garton. 

“Before he came to the town, he approached a field, 
and here leaning against the fence was a man. He 
was a terrible, beaten man. His face was bruised and 
cut, stained horribly with blood and dirt. His scarlet 
tunic, stained with a deeper red, was torn and dirty; 
and the torn white clothes beneath were stained as well. 
One arm hung helpless, and the other was pressed 
against his side. The face was drawn with pain, the 
lips pressed close ; but the indomitable blue eyes showed 
no pain or self-pity. In them was only a fight against 
physical weakness ; a relentless command to his broken 
body to ‘carry on/ The boy moved by him slowly, re- 
garding him with wide brown eyes. 

“The man returned his gaze, and I think his stem 
eyes became softer and a little troubled. 

“ ‘Dinna ye go, laddie,’ he said. The boy stood and 
stared a moment. He had not meant to go back to 
Angus. Now he felt glad. 

104 


MACKENZIE COMES BACK 


“He walked up to the stricken man, and, standing at 
his left side so that the unbroken arm could rest upon 
his shoulder, he guided him from the fence to the road. 
With never a word and not a sound, they made their 
way in the twilight to the nook by the riverside. 

“Now it was the boy who played nurse. He bathed 
MacKenzie’s wounds and bound them up. He cut a 
splint for the broken arm and strove to ease the broken 
ribs. The fine, well-knit body was sorely bruised and 
cut. Each cut the boy nursed faithfully under Mac- 
Kenzie’s guidance and made for the man a bed of bal- 
sam boughs. Leaving him there, rolled in warm blan- 
kets, he made a fire, preparing an evening meal; then 
in the waning light, he took the ‘house maid’ from 
MacKenzie’s pack and started to mend the torn clothes. 
With only scorn for his own suffering, the Scotchman 
sat in his blankets, leaning against a friendly tree, and 
smoked, gazing at the boy. Gradually night fell, and 
throwing off his blankets, MacKenzie demanded his 
clothes. The boy looked at him with troubled eyes, 
fearing delirium; but MacKenzh’s eyes were sane 
enough, although they were lit with a great resolve. 
Again he demanded his clothes and, after futile protest, 
the boy helped him put them on. The riding breeches, 
clumsily patched and mended, the heavy brown boots, 
a clean shirt, and the only other tunic of khaki in place 
of the torn scarlet one. With an occasional groan be- 
tween tight-closed lips, the man donned them all ; and 

105 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


the boy helped with almost a woman’s tenderness. 

“After this ordeal MacKenzie relaxed with clenched 
teeth at the fireside. Leaning back once more against 
the tree, he stared moodily into the blaze, while the boy 
sat opposite with troubled eyes. 

“Now night with all its black darkness came upon 
them. No moon was out ; only an occasional star, va- 
grant among summer clouds. If the stars could have 
seen through the screening trees, they would have 
gazed all night upon a very remarkable scene. 

“There was the fire, burning red and flickering as 
the breeze passed through it. Beside it sat the boy, his 
naked shoulders covered by a blanket. He moved only 
to keep the fire alive. His eyes were fixed on the 
figure which caught the fire’s light opposite him. Here 
was MacKenzie broken and tortured as he was, kneel- 
ing, supported by a broken tree — and praying. 

“All night the fire glowed and all night the savage 
boy stared in wonder at this man who, all through the 
night, prayed. Not for ease from pain nor for safety 
from his wounds, but for strength to continue in his 
work. To suffer more. 

“Sometimes his face would fall on his bended arm ; 
he seemed to sleep. Then up he would bring his head, 
and in the rolling, sonorous accents of the Scotch ex- 
horter, he would pray. 

“At last toward morning, indeed after the east has 
already turned green-gray, he really slept. The Indian 
106 


MACKENZIE COMES BACK 


boy crept forward, and covered the form with a blan- 
ket, not daring to move the bruised body. He leaned 
over MacKenzie for a little while, seeking the swollen, 
bruised face as it showed in the firelight. Then he 
lightly touched the sleeper’s shoulder and withdrew to 
his own blankets. 

“The sun was up when MaKenzie awoke and, wak- 
ing, cried out with pain. This awakened White Arrow, 
who sprang to the Scotchman’s side. MacKenzie 
smiled a grim smile which the boy answered quickly. 
Then into the man’s eyes came the relentless determina- 
tion of the night before. With a few mutterings he 
made his way to his old place beside the fire, sitting 
there while the boy prepared the breakfast. Silently 
they ate, and then, White Arrow assisting him, Mac- 
Kenzie arose and made his way to the buckboard. 

“ ‘Break camp !’ he said ; then added, ‘Laddie.’ 

“Silently the boy obeyed. The ponies must be 
hitched and the duffle packed on the buckboard. Mac- 
Kenzie then spurred himself to the ordeal of clamber- 
ing onto the buckboard ; this accomplished, leaving him 
white, and with damp forehead, the boy was bidden to 
drive to Garton. 

“He did so with dread in his heart and the cold dread 
increased as they neared the settlement. MacKenzie 
trusted that Angus might still be there ; the boy prayed 
that he might not. 

“At the ‘Maple Leaf’ the buckboard stopped, and 
107 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


there was the painful ordeal of getting down. Mac- 
Kenzie, very slowly, with a few necessary pauses, made 
his way to the same back door; and leaving White 
Arrow there, with a pair of glistening manacles, he 
opened the door and entered. 

“As before the men were gathered about the tables 
in a blue haze of smoke; and just as it happened be- 
fore, a deathly silence fell when MacKenzie appeared. 
And there was Red Angus. 

“MacKenzie slowly crossed the room to the table 
where Angus stood. Angus rose suddenly to his feet 
and then there came the great clatter of all men rising, 
too. The room seemed crowded with the rough figures 
who stood up. MacKenzie advanced till he stood lean- 
ing with his unbroken arm upon a chair at the table 
opposite Angus. He was white as death is white, and 
his eyes burned with an intolerable fire. When he 
spoke, his voice rang out in the still room with a vi- 
brant, clarion sound. 

“ Tn the name o' the Queen, I arrest ye, Angus 
Wherrit, for the murder of David Carol. And I 
warm ye that anything ye may say will be used against 
ye/ 

“There followed a deathly silence. Angus turned 
horribly pale and the crowd, like a wolf pack, shuf- 
fled a little, making the circle smaller. 

“Then in a small voice, almost a tremulous mutter, 
Angus spoke. 

108 


MACKENZIE COMES BACK 


“ ‘A’right, constable/ he said, ‘c’mon.’ And his eyes 
seeking the floor, he shuffled around the table and stood 
at MacKenzie’s side. MacKenzie swept the circling 
pack with his glance, and they, seeming to see in his 
deep-set eyes what Angus must have seen, stepped 
back. With Angus he made his way, through the lane 
they formed, slowly to the door. 

“Once outside he gave a curt command and Angus 
held forth his hands. Then came White Arrow and 
slipped over the great wrists the manacles he bore. In 
a sort of futile seeking the man’s eyes sought the boy’s ; 
but he found there nothing — only the blank stare of the 
red Indian 

“You know, I think that afterwards — after Angus 
was tried and sentenced and hung — after MacKenzie 
left the hospital and White Arrow lived at the Post 
with him — I think that the Indian boy must have re- 
membered that look which Angus gave him. And if 
he did, I believe he rejoiced at his freedom from the 
power of it. It was powerless to call him back. 

“Of course that is only a thought on my part — I 
don’t know.” 

There followed a pause while the rapids murmured 
on their way. 

“Is that the end?” asked Eddie Adams. 

“That,” said Renfrew, “is the end.” 


109 


CHAPTER VII 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 

“You know,” said Renfrew, “one of the greatest 
temptations in life is to follow the crowd.” 

He looked across the fire at the boys and grinned. 

“I say that as if I’d made a great discovery, don’t 
I?” he said, laughing. “And, of course, you all know 
it already. But there it is nevertheless.” 

The explorers were camped on a high bank of the 
river and breathed the scent of evergreen needles with 
every breath they took. The wind made the water 
fitful and the trees talked in an incessant sing-song, 
cracking their boughs together. 

That night, since supper, there had been heated de- 
bate, and it was no strange thing. Renfrew seemed to 
enjoy the sounds of such discussions and would sit 
puffing quietly at his pipe while he listened, ready with 
a quick support for any argument which he felt held 
good. So, many evenings had been passed. Lengthy 
discussions of the trail, long talks on map reading, com- 
pass bearing, cooking, building, woodcraft and the 


no 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


reading of the stars. There had been moonlight swims, 
and even some evenings which had found the ex- 
plorers too tired after a day of coping with the turbu- 
lent Marapo to do anything but sleep. 

On this night, however, heated debate had filled the 
evening, and it had come to this. 

“The crudest example,” said Renfrew, hot upon the 
trail of a thought, “is panic — a fear-maddened mob. 
Every man feels a contempt for that sort of thing, and 
we like to feel that under any circumstances we should 
never lose our heads, that we would keep cool. But — ” 
and he looked at his companions keenly, “how about 
the more common examples? The men who sacrifice 
ideals and aspirations for the money-making job ? Men 
who would rather build fortunes than manhood? 
Boys who leave school to follow the crowd into fac- 
tories and offices? Youngsters who follow willy nilly 
whatever rotten things the gang may do, or say, or 
think. 

“Hunting with the pack! Playing the wolf cub 
where manhood is the issue. — Understand what I 
mean ?” 

A little silence followed, all the boys understanding 
very clearly. Alan, hugging his knees, broke it. 

“I think I know,” he said honestly. “Sometimes I 
feel mad at myself because I do something just be- 
cause all the other fellows do it. You want to kick 
yourself afterward.” 


hi 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Renfrew nodded gravely to the fire. 

“We’d have no United States if Washington and 
the rest had hunted with the pack/’ said Renfrew. 

He sat reflecting, while the trees mourned and the 
water lapped in a companionable way. The firelight 
shone on the trees — they seemed a golden lacework. 
Renfrew turned to the boys apologetically. 

‘Til tell you a story,” he said. 

“Me-tah-nic was chief of a branch of the Cree na- 
tion,” Renfrew began. “And he was old. Also, he 
was wise; and, having roamed the forest trails before 
the white man and the redcoat had come out of the 
East, he was especially wise in the ways of the white 
man. But he was old. 

“Micheal Noud was an Indian agent, and had gained 
his position by wile and black favor. He was dishon- 
est and robbed his Indian wards with great impar- 
tiality. 

“Indians, though, follow a certain code of honesty. 
The wilderness life enforces it. They had no locks 
nor keys in the wilderness. So there came a time when 
Me-tah-nic and his Crees lost respect for the white 
man Noud, and Noud was foolish enough to be blind 
to the serious danger of such a happening. After 
some particularly grievous act of dishonesty, which 
had been quite transparent to the impassive Indian who 
suffered by it, a solemn party of young men came to 
the lodge of Me-tah-nic, and took counsel with him. 


1 12 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


“ This white man is a great pig/ said Teh-nah-gat, 
who was the son of a chieftain, and would in due time 
come into the headdress of Me-tah-nic. ‘He is a 
great pig, and has by his unclean dealings taken from 
Mantowac three milch cows which were to come to him 
from the Great White Father.’ (In this manner he 
referred to the King of England.) ‘He is a great 
pig/ said Teh-nah-gat, ‘and is it not fitting that we 
should slay him?’ 

“Now the old chieftain had been waiting for this 
moment long days, and it distressed him very much, 
for, as I have said, he knew the ways of the white men 
and knew well where such an act as this would lead. 

“ ‘Teh-nah-gat speaks with the mouth of a child, 
and a foolish child,’ he said with engaging frankness. 
‘I, who am your chief, have dealt with the white men 
while many summers have passed, and from before the 
days when the buffalo herds were black upon the 
prairie. If this man is killed, the redcoats will come, 
and he who made the killing will be taken to the white 
man’s lodge, and will be hanged until the breath is 
gone from his body. What is to be gained for our peo- 
ple if this man dies, and two or three, or four of our 
braves are made to hang for it in the white man’s 
lodge? I have spoken.’ 

“ ‘We will kill this man, who is a great pig,’ said 
Teh-nah-gat. ‘And when the redcoats come, we will 
113 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


slay them, too ; so that in this manner none of us shall 
hang for the killing of Noud. He is a great pig.’ 

“ ‘Teh-nah-gat speaks with a vacant mind. His 
mouth is as the mouth of a papoose, and a great wind 
comes out from it,’ the old chief replied. Tf this man 
is killed, lo, two redcoats will come; if those two red- 
coats are killed, four will come to avenge them; and 
if these are slain, there will come a great number of 
redcoats with guns which shatter the earth under their 
enemies. Great numbers will come which will be un- 
countable even as the leaves on the trees in the heat 
of the summer, and our teepees will be burned, and our 
cattle taken; our children will be taken from us and 
our young men slain in battle. We will lose all our 
lands and be cast out of our hunting grounds — all of 
us who do not hang at Regina. Is it fitting that all this 
should come upon us because of the unwise practice of 
a fool? I have spoken.’ 

“And that is all the satisfaction the young men got 
from old Me-tah-nic. But they didn’t believe him. 
Were they children to be frightened by the threat of 
armed men? Were they squaws? And as for the tales 
of redcoats coming like the leaves of the trees in sum- 
mer, this was plainly a fabrication to put fear in their 
hearts. They knew that the redcoats were only two 
in number, and as far as leaves in the summer, there 
were not that many white men in the world. Besides 
114 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


there was the matter of Mantowac’s milch cows, and 
thf white man, Noud, who was a pig. 

So the young men took counsel with one another, 
and afterward held a war dance. Me-tah-nic, hearing 
it, and knowing well what it meant, went down to the 
cabin of the fool, Noud, and warned him. Noud, in 
yellow fear, told Me-tah-nic that if he were killed, 
Me-tah-nic would surely hang; then believing from the 
gravity in the old man’s face that he was effectively 
scared, Noud felt a great deal safer. At this point 
Teh-nah-gat and the young men arrived at the cabin, 
and they took Noud out and nailed him to the door like 
a stretched skin. Me-tah-nic watched them do this in 
dismay. He felt no pity for the wretched white man, 
but he loved his people, and in this, saw their end. 

“ This is a bad thing,’ he said. ‘Behold, I, Me-tah- 
nic, am your chief no longer.’ And so it was. 

“The young men nailed Noud to his cabin door, 
and then set fire to the cabin. Then they danced about 
the blaze while Noud was killed by it, and they were 
dancing when the morning came. 

“In due time an account of all this reached Regina, 
which is the headquarters of the Royal Northwest 
Mounted Police, and Regina sent the story on to Atha- 
basca Landing with instructions to investigate. Saun- 
ders, Divisional Commander at Athabasca Landing, 
‘referred it’ to Corporal West at Peace River. 

“It was in that manner that I got in touch with the 
115 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


story. As it happened I was nearly thrown into it 
bodily, neck and crop; but an accident prevented rny 
seeing it through.” 

Renfrew rose, walked over to the fire and kicked a 
log which was escaping the flame, pushing it deeply 
into the glowing embers. 

“My luck,” he said with a grin at the flying sparks. 
“Dandy adventure. And there was I with my leg up 
on a chair at Fort Simpson. Oh, well — ” He re- 
sumed his seat beside Alan at the fireside. 

“As soon as West received the instructions ‘to in- 
vestigate’ from Athabasca Landing, he made plans for 
the journey. There were not many men to choose from 
at Peace River just then. We had trouble getting an 
Indian for the pack animals, I remember. But we got 
our party together and set out about the beginning of 
October; West and me, and the Indian (Andy Lou was 
the Indian’s name). 

“When we rode out, the tang of the North was al- 
ready in the air, and the nights were cold. We set 
our course to the northwest, aiming for the point where 
the Hay River rolls down to the foothills of the Rock- 
ies. From there we could make our way across the 
northeast corner of British Columbia, passing through 
old Fort Liard, then up the River au Liard, which you 
will probably find marked on your maps as the Moun- 
tain River, until, far to the north, a hundred miles 
116 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


south of Fort Simpson, we planned to turn west to the 
Rockies where Me-tah-nic lived with his people. 

“It is a long, splendid trek, through the most beauti- 
ful country in the world, with all the splendors of camp 
life accompanying the ride, and the best of company, 
and the finest of mounts to make the journey with. 

“At first, as we rode through the black pine coun- 
try, following trails through the woods which wound 
along the river sides, we saw the mountains from a 
distance. They were so far removed that the foot of 
them was lost to sight in the mists of the horizon ; only 
high in the sky, their snow-clad peaks caught the sun, 
and thus delicately sketched against the blue, they were 
like a phantom range, or one carved from mother-of- 
pearl. 

“We rode and camped together for several splen- 
did days, till the base of the mountains was reached, 
and those pearl-tinted peaks towered above us, making 
us very small. The air is like wine in the Rocky Moun- 
tains and those lofty crags, extending from the timber- 
covered base, always fill me with a desire to climb to 
their very heights and throw up my arms at the unat- 
tainable blue spaces which surround them, and breathe 
deep. 

“The valleys below through which we passed were 
now vividly colored with the flaming hues of foliage 
as in mid-autumn. Hues which seem to be more vivid 
as one goes farther north. The very nearness of that 
n 7 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


earthly beauty which surrounded us and made every 
movement the source of some new delightful aspect, 
of brilliant color, seemed to make those towering peaks 
more unearthly and farther removed. 

“I mention all this so that you may get an idea of 
the scenic setting of what happened afterward — after 
I left the stage. 

“Soon after we left the River au Liard behind, an 
accident befell me, and this accident put me out of 
the running. We were making our way down a steep 
slope, the floor of which was rough shingle, broken 
rock, into which the feet of our horses sank to the 
ankles ; and here my poor beastie stumbled and lost its 
footing, so that it fell and rolled down the slope with 
me beneath it. At the bottom of the slope the horse 
regained its feet, but I didn’t. I found that my left 
ankle was pretty badly broken. 

“Of course that was a pretty kettle of fish and I felt 
a deep, rich blue by the time West got me back to 
Fort Simpson. The ankle hurt abominably, and al- 
though we traveled slowly it was a miserable journey. 
About one hundred and fifty miles which we made in 
five or six days. 

“Fort Simpson is an old post of the Hudson’s Bay 
Company. There is a store there, a mission and a 
collection of cabins. Hunters and trappers mostly. 
West found me a place with the old post doctor, and 
left me there to continue the ‘investigation’ alone. Of 
118 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


course this ‘investigation’ was to be a matter of finding 
out whether the crime had been committed and if it had 
been, of bringing the murderers to justice. Since the 
Indian country in question had hardly been trodden by 
a white man, except for the agent and an occasional 
trapper, a pretty exciting experience was to be expected 
by the ‘investigator,’ and I felt loath to let West go on 
alone. But it must be so. The duty must be done while 
the trail of the crime was still fresh, and I was good 
for at least a month on my back. So West went on 
with Andy Lou and the horses. 

“Long days I lay there at Fort Simpson while the 
old doctor came and put me to the torture two or three 
times a week. Soon after West left a prospector and 
his son came down from the Rockies and they had a 
tale to tell which interested me. 

“It seemed they had fallen in with a number of In- 
dians — Sicannies — and these had told them of Noud’s 
horrible fate. The Sicannies are a suspicious crowd 
and have little to do with white men; also for very 
good tribal reasons (they are poor fighters) they 
mingle very little with Me-tah-nic’s warriors. But in 
some way they had heard the story and eagerly passed 
it on. They added to it the news that Teh-nah-gat had 
taken the leadership completely away from the old 
chieftain and had danced many war dances with his 
braves to keep firm a resolution they had made that 
1 19 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


all white men — especially redcoats, would be slain di- 
rectly they entered the Indian territory. 

“Of course this filled me with forebodings of the 
danger into which West was riding all alone. What if 
they slew him as they had slain Noud. But I was help- 
less to follow, and the doctor grilled me mercilessly 
when I suggested doing so in a day or so. 

“Meanwhile West faced the mountains you may be 
sure, with a firm heart and a high resolve, and you can 
picture his scarlet coat shining brightly in the autumn 
sunlight, and in the vivid coloring of the woods, as 
he cantered along the trail. It was somewhere along 
this trail that he met a party of Indians, and these told 
him the same story which the Sicannies had imparted 
to the prospectors. Teh-nah-gat was on the warpath. 
To continue on his quest meant death. The same kind 
of death which Noud had suffered. 

“West thanked the Indians and gave them a gift 
at parting. Then he continued his journey as though 
the warning had not been spoken. But Andy Lou fol- 
lowed him reluctantly. 

“So they came to a pass in the mountains, and West 
knew that he was at the door of Meh-tah-nic’s country. 
It was here that Andy Lou lost heart. Nothing would 
persuade him to ride farther. West laughed at him 
for a man with the heart of a squaw, and he took one 
pack horse and rode on alone. 

“Andy Lou looked after him till his scarlet coat was 
120 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


lost in the flaming foliage ; then, in sorrow at the white 
man’s foolishness, and in worshipful admiration, too, 
he made camp and waited for whatever might befall. 

“Before West entered the pass he made sure that 
his carbine was ready and his revolver loaded, and at 
hand, for, from this point onward he knew he would 
be watched by silent and invisible spies ; as he rode in 
the daylight, as he camped by the wayside, as he sat 
by his fires, and as he slept, the tireless vigil was kept. 
A false move on his part might at any moment bring 
him death from the rifle of an unseen Indian, and he 
knew that he rode with death in the sunlit valley. Yet 
he made no sign that he was aware of the silent watch- 
ers; he rode and he camped as he would have ridden 
for pleasure in the forest; and at night, with quiet 
nerves, he slept. 

“When he arose in the early morning, he became 
aware of an Indian sitting at his fireside as still as 
the trunk of the pines. As he made his careful prepa- 
rations for the day, the Indian sat silent, and it was 
not until West was shaven and dressed that they 
greeted one another with great gravity. This required 
some ceremony. First West sat silently beside the 
Indian and lit a pipe. He puffed it for a few moments 
and then passed it to the Indian who in his turn puffed 
silently, and then handed it back. Then the Indian 
spoke. 

“ T am Me-tah-nic,” said he gravely. 


121 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


" 'My name,’ said the redcoat, 'is West.' 

“ 'My white brother rides alone,’ remarked the chief. 

" 'He who rode with me was wounded when his horse 
fell,’ replied West with honest candor. 'I left him at 
Fort Simpson, and am here alone. Why comes my 
brother to my camp fire ?’ 

"For a moment the old Indian sat silently, choosing 
his words. 'The white man, Noud, whom the Great 
White Father, in his wisdom sent to speak for him 
among my people,’ he said at last, 'was a bad man. 
He knew not the ways of the redcoats. He robbed my 
people.’ 

"Another pause, while the coffee-pot steamed on the 
fire. 

"Me-tah-nic continued. 'He was a great pig,’ said 
Me-tah-nic. 'And, therefore, I, Meh-tah-nic, slew him. 
I nailed him to the door of his cabin, and I set fire to 
the cabin, so that he was killed.’ 

" 'Me-tah-nic was not well advised,’ said West dryly. 

" 'Me-tah-nic was a great fool,’ agreed the old In- 
dian. ‘But the man is not master of his spirit, when 
the Evil One works within him and commands him to 
do wrong.’ 

" 'Aye,’ said West. 

" 'The young braves of my tribe are very loyal to 
me,’ said Me-tah-nic. 'They have sworn to slay the 
redcoats who come to take me for this evil deed, but I 
am wise in the way of the white man, and I know that 


122 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


if my brother is slain it will assuredly bring vengeance 
upon my people, for are not the redcoats many as the 
leaves upon the trees in the summer? Behold, Me- 
tah-nic is here! Go no further on your mission, lest 
my people kill you, and harm befall them thereby. I 
give myself up to you, white brother. Take me with 
you to Regina, that I may answer for my crime/ 

“West had watched Me-tah-nic keenly while he 
spoke, and although the old man betrayed nothing in 
his expression or his voice, he knew that the Indian 
lied. 

“ ‘My brother Me-tah-nic tells me that he knows the 
ways of the white man/ West said with great firmness. 
‘Then he knows it is not our way to stop short of a 
deed half done. Death may await me in your country, 
yet you know I must go there to find the slayer of 
Noud. You are a man, indeed, Me-tah-nic, and worthy 
to be the great chieftain which you are. For I know 
that you come to give yourself up to be hanged for 
your people’s good; yet you never committed this 
crime. I must go forward and learn who it is that did 
this thing, and him I must take back with me if the 
Great Spirit commands that I may do so/ 

“Me-tah-nic spoke. The honest praise of his brave 
act had touched his heart, and he began at that moment 
to worship at the feet of this white man who faced 
death with such firm calmness. It is such cool bravery 
as West showed then, that has made the work of the 
123 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Mounted Police so lasting in its effect upon the In- 
dians. 

“ ‘My brother has called Me-tah-nic a man indeed/ 
the Indian said. ‘Yet in all my life, though it has 
seen many battles and great numbers slain, never have 
I met with such a man as you, who ride into death, as 
a young brave goes forth to the hunt. But you will not 
go alone, for I shall ride beside you and my braves may 
yet have enough love for me, who was their chieftain, 
to forbear to kill you at my side.’ 

“ ‘Me-tah-nic speaks with a great heart/ said West, 
then. ‘And so it shall be. We will ride together.’ 

“So after the morning meal was finished, and the 
camp was broken, the two set out, side by side, each 
with a vast respect for the other, each keeping a solemn 
silence. Yet, you know both those men were filled 
with joy at the adventure, and they urged their horses 
over the mountain trails with the thrill of it in their 
hearts. 

“Always as they rode, they were watched; their 
every move was marked, almost every word they said 
was heard. Had either betrayed fear, or had they 
planned the slightest treachery, they would never have 
seen the Indians who would have killed them. As it 
was they rode forward with impassive faces, and only 
exchanged the most commonplace remarks of camp 
life. 

“On the second day they came upon isolated lodges 
124 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


in the forest. These were the camps of hunters who 
lived on the village outskirts, and they rode by them in 
silence. The Indians who watched them pass were si- 
lent, too ; but no sooner were the redcoat and his strange 
companion hidden from sight than these Indians dis- 
appeared into the woods to give news of their coming 
to the village. This was scarcely necessary, for, from 
a day before West had entered the reservation, runners 
had been streaming in, giving reports of every move- 
ment he made. It was as Me-tah-nic had said; only 
the presence of the old Chief at his side had prevented 
him from dying in some sudden ambush on the trail. 

“When they reached the village everything was pre- 
pared for their coming. A war dance had been held 
the night before, and the women and children had been 
sent away into the mountains. Every brave had his 
rifle loaded, and at hand. The ponies were loose in the 
village and equipped for riding. Also, a sinister omen, 
all was ready for a sudden breaking of camp. 

“West and Me-tah-nic rode directly into the village 
and reined in at the center of a circle of Indians who 
sat silently on the ground and stared at them. They 
appeared as though waiting for the redcoat to perform 
some tricks for them; but every brave had a loaded 
rifle ready on his knees, and awaited only the signal 
from Teh-nah-gat for the pleasurable excitement of 
slaying this white man, too. West seemed utterly ig- 
norant of the presence of these silent red men. His 

125 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


revolver was strapped in its holster, and his carbine 
was in its sheath at his knee. As he rode into the circle 
his mission seemed the most peaceful one in all the 
world. But beneath his calm his heart beat fast, and 
he was very alert. It was a desperate game which he 
played ; his nearest help was two hundred miles away. 
He sat alone on his great bay mare, and dominated the 
savages by his very loneliness. 

“ ‘Who is your leader ?’ he said crisply. 

“Teh-nah-gat stepped forth, and standing at the head 
of West’s horse, he looked insolently up at him. West 
recognized the insolence in the look, and saw that his 
task was to be hard. Teh-nah-gat was intoxicated with 
power, and had respect for no authority. 

“ ‘I am Teh-nah-gat,’ cried the Indian. T am the 
chieftain of these people,’ and he beat upon his chest 
with a great deal of dishonest pride. 

“West looked down upon the savage with cold eyes. 

“ ‘Teh-nah-gat speaks with the lying mouth,’ he said. 
‘For this is your chief, Me-tah-nic; and you can have 
no other.’ 

“The face of the young Indian darkened at that, and 
turning to his followers, he shouted a signal. Im- 
mediately a number of Indians leaped to their saddles, 
seeming to spring from the ground directly onto the 
backs of their ponies. They moved like lightning, and 
came bounding over the open ground toward West. 
West watched them come without moving a muscle. 

126 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


He acted as though he was confident that they meant 
no harm, which was a very brave attitude, indeed. But 
he was facing one of those crises which come to every 
man in a lifetime — that moment when it is most dan- 
gerous to be afraid. West showed no fear, nor did he 
lose his head; as a direct result of which the Indian 
bluff was called. They merely rode up to him in an 
endeavor to separate him from Me-tah-nic, waving 
their rifles in the air with shrill cries, and jostling his 
horse with their ponies. With a steady hand he kept 
his place beside the chief, and his great bay horse stood 
like a rock against the slight ponies of the Indians. 
Always he ignored the jeering crowd, and kept his 
eyes intently on Teh-nah-gat. As the warriors jostled 
roughly against him, he spoke to the youthful rebel. 

“ ‘Call back these braves, Teh-nah-gat! it is not 
fitting that a warrior play the part of a coyote, and 
harry the kill it cannot bring down! Call these war- 
riors back, that they may sit in council with me as men 
who talk with men/ 

“Teh-nah-gat was a savage, and the war dance which 
had made the death of Noud so sure a thing, was the 
beginning of a series of events which had set aflame 
the animal in his heart. West was no longer dealing 
with a man; he now had a wild beast to tame. Teh- 
nah-gat turned up his face, distorted with lust for 
blood, and made hideous with the war paint smeared 
upon it. 


127 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“ ‘They are the braves of Teh-nah-gat,’ cried the 
beast, as the Indians yelped more and more shrilly, 
hurling their ponies against West and brandishing their 
knives in his face. ‘You will never leave this place 
alive, redcoat! My braves will play with you as we 
played with the accursed Noud! We will kill, kill, 
kill, and your scalp will hang from the guide pole of 
my lodge.’ 

“The beast danced in a great frenzy, and the Indian 
horsemen began to ride in a dizzy serpentine about the 
white man. This was the way Custer saw the Indians 
ride before he died on the Little Big Horn, and many 
a white man has made his last desperate fight against 
such a dizzy, howling circle of savages as that. West 
knew that it was the beginning of a very rotten sort 
of end, and that only the chieftain at his side was the 
slim straw which kept that end away. He acted 
quickly, and with vast daring. He whipped a pair of 
manacles from his pocket, and threw himself with a 
headlong dive from his saddle upon the astonished 
Teh-nah-gat. Together they tumbled to the ground, 
and the amazed riders, who had confidently expected 
the end to start with rifle fire, slowed up to see this in- 
credible thing. 

“When West arose to his feet, he stood over a fum- 
ing, manacled prisoner. In the brief moment of that 
tussle, the entire situation was shattered and a new 
one made. The redcoat was now the master. He 
128 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


leaped into his saddle, and as his prisoner arose to his 
feet, he threw a looped rope about his neck. 

“Broken now was the frenzied circle of riders, and 
changed from dangerous savages to children, curious 
to see what this amazing white man would do next. 

“West addressed them from his saddle. He told 
them with all the eloquence and ceremony which Indians 
love, of how Me-tah-nic had placed his head in the 
hangman’s rope to save his people. He told them how 
much more faith he had put in the old Chief than they 
had. How, unwilling to believe that Me-tah-nic was 
the murderer, he had come to them, that they might 
reassure him that this was indeed so. He had known, 
he said, that they were determined to kill any redcoats 
who might come; yet rather than hang their Chief 
without a hearing he had risked almost certain death. 
‘Now, behold,’ he cried. ‘I will make Teh-nah-gat 
free, and you, my brothers, must decide who shall go 
back with me to face trial! I have taken my chance 
with the Evil Spirit within you, and have risked my 
life so that no one shall be punished save only those 
who did this thing. Judge, therefore, my brothers, 
who is to ride back with me. Is it your Chief, Me- 
tah-nic ?’ 

“And, true to his word, he freed Teh-nah-gat from 
his bonds. 

“For a time the young savage stood looking up at 
him, and at the statue on horseback which was Me-tah- 
129 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


nic; then turning, he walked over to the circle of his 
tribesmen. 

“They took counsel together in a chattering knot, 
while Me-tah-nic sat motionless, and West turned his 
eyes to a white mountain peak which towered over the 
vivid forest before him. He told me afterward that he 
felt never was a mountain so majestic and serene, 
never was an autumn day more clear, nor the clean 
thrill of life in the forest half so vigorous, as in this 
hour when he emerged from the shadow of death. 

“Came Teh-nah-gat once more to his bridle, and the 
Indian’s face no longer bore the look of the wild beast. 
It was now the earnest face of an intelligent child. 
Teh-nah-gat was followed by a little knot of braves 
who came forward and stood behind him. 

“'Behold!’ said Teh-nah-gat. 'We who stand here 
are the men who in the foolishness of our spirits slew 
the white man Noud. We took him from council with 
Me-tah-nic and nailed him to the door of his cabin ; and 
we set fire to his cabin, so that like the pine tree in the 
heat of the dry season, he was consumed. Me-tah-nic 
is innocent of this deed. He stood in conclave against 
us, trying to turn us from our anger. But my mind 
was the mind of a papoose, and I led these men out to 
kill the white man Noud. We nailed him to the door 
of his cabin, and having nailed him there, as the hide 
of the buffalo is pegged on the ground for the wig- 
wam, we set fire to the cabin, and so this white man 
130 


ONE WHO RODE ALONE 


died. He screamed like a trapped hare; he was a 
great pig. Now we will ride with you to the white 
man’s lodge, for we know that the way you deal with 
us will be a just way.’ 

“Now Me-tah-nic took command of his braves again, 
and he bullied and belabored them with ceaseless chat- 
ter, as they prepared ponies and equipment for the 
journey of the braves who had surrendered. 

And West rode back to Peace River with his pris- 
oners who followed like children while the redcoat and 
Andy Lou who waited for him at the mouth of the pass 
kept ceaseless watch. 

“That’s your story! The story of the black scoun- 
drel, contemptible fool, Noud ; of the poor savage, Teh- 
nah-gat; and of Me-tah-nic, who refused to hunt with 
the pack. 

“Of course there was West as well.” 

Again Renfrew rose and kicked the fire together. 

“What happened to Teh-nah-gat,” asked Eddie 
Adams. 

“That was a good story,” said Bub. 

“Hanged him,” said Renfrew shortly, struggling 
with a fiery log. Then, nipping in the bud other im- 
pending questions, he added : “The rest went to prison. 
Ghastly fate for a mountain Indian. I can see those 
mountains yet.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


TRAVELING LIGHT 

“It was about a patrol,” said Billy Loomis. "You 
told us that a man named Fitz something had gone 
out with a whole patrol. You promised to tell us the 
story some day, and asked us to remind you of it.” 

They had come to the shores of a broad lake, and 
had made their camp upon it. The wooded boundaries 
sloped to a sandy beach and the waters rippled upon it 
in a friendly sort of manner. It was the end of the 
first part of their adventure. In the morning the ex- 
plorers would leave their canoes on these sandy shores 
and climb the mountain behind them to find Lake 
Surprise. 

Renfrew looked at Billy for a long time, puffing his 
pipe; remembering. 

"It is a terrible story,” he said finally. "And yet 
it is a splendid one, too. It is the most tragic thing 
which ever befell in the records of the Mounted Police. 
It was the result of one of those little, childish weak- 
nesses which crop out in a man now and then. Yet it 
132 


TRAVELING LIGHT 


symbolizes the splendor of the work which every ex- 
plorer has done — Lewis and Clark, Livingstone, Co- 
lumbus — all of them. 

“But it is not a lecture I am to read you, is it ? It is 
a story you want. I must leave you to draw your own 
conclusions as I did in the story of Red Angus, and 
you must choose the hero, too. 

“It is Deming’s story in a way. It started with him, 
and in a very remarkable way he ended it. Deming 
was at that time Sergeant in Command at Fort Reso- 
lution, a Northern Frontier post on Great Slave Lake. 
He is a big, wholesome man with iron nerves and an 
irresistible will. He is not easily daunted. 

“Fort Minto is a post about five hundred miles 
north of Resolution. It is near to the shore of Great 
Bear Lake, but that doesn’t mean anything to Minto 
since for barely four months in the year is Great Bear 
anything more than a desert of drifting snow and 
broken ice pack. 

“Every winter it was Deming’s duty to send a pa- 
trol up to Fort Minto to keep in touch with the settle- 
ment there and with Sergeant Fitzherbert who from 
that distant post, held the peace of the land among 
the Esquimoux and Indians of the Arctic. Every win- 
ter Deming’s patrol drove up to Minto and back, fol- 
lowing a trail over the mountains which only the Po- 
lice and occasionally Indians used. It was a rough, 
133 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


hard trail, over glacier and frozen river bed; but it 
was the straightest way. 

“Now when Deming sent out this patrol he sent it 
loaded with a surplus of provisions, enough for a week 
or ten days more than the trip demanded ; and he pro- 
vided the party with shotguns and ammunition for 
them so that should food fail and no big game be 
found they could depend on a supply of small game. 
Having in mind the roughness of the trail and the bit- 
terness of the elements which held sway over it, he 
took no chances. And every time the patrol arrived 
in Minto with its surplus of provisions and its unused 
guns and ammunition, Fitzherbert sent back good- 
humored, jesting messages reminding Deming that he 
had forgotten to provide hot-water bottles for his men, 
or foot warmers, or telling him that the patrol had 
arrived shamefully short of base-burning stoves. 

“That is the sort of man Fitzherbert was. A little, 
resolute man, he had spent years traversing the bar- 
rens of the North. The adventures of hardship about 
which explorers after a carefully planned, long-pre- 
pared trip write books, were matters of every-day life 
to him. Year in and year out he invaded the unknown, 
he faced the irresistible, he broke the untrodden trail. 
He lived his life on snowshoes ; he moved in the bleak 
danger of the untracked North every day, and he knew 
no warmth at night. The trail to Resolution was trav- 
eled every year. In Fitzherbert’s mind it was a mo- 
134 


TRAVELING LIGHT 


notonous highway, a simple jaunt ; so he jested at Dem- 
ing’s elaborate equipment for it, because he himself 
had trekked four hundred miles with a week’s provi- 
sions, with four dogs, and alone — once. 

“All this was before the Indian, Jacob, came down 
to Resolution and told Sergeant Deming his story. 

“Deming had been expecting to see Fitzherbert that 
winter — it was the winter of 1912. In the previous 
spring he had received word from Regina instructing 
him to forego the usual patrol to Minto since Fitz- 
herbert himself was to patrol from Minto to Resolu- 
tion when the winter came. This was arranged so that 
the Commissioner at Regina could get in touch with 
Fitzherbert by wire. Fitzherbert, these instructions 
told Deming, would arrive at Resolution about the 
first of February. And February came and was nearly 
gone, when the Indian Jacob arrived at Resolution 
from the Minto trail and told Deming his story. 

“Had he seen anything of Sergeant Fitzherbert on 
the trail ? Deming asked him. Yes, he had. His camp 
had been on Portage Creek. Portage Creek on the 
other side of the divide. Sergeant Fitzherbert had 
come to him, up the creek, with a party. There were 
three others in the party. Three dog teams and four 
men — all redcoats. They hired him to guide them over 
to the Little Thunder River. He had done so and they 
paid him $24. Then he returned to his camp. The 
white man’s snowshoes were small snowshoes, Jacob 
135 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


observed. His own snowshoes were longer. A foot 
longer and they were wider. He had hunted on the 
Elk River until now. The hunting was bad. Ser- 
geant Fitzherbert should have arrived at Resolution 
four or five weeks ago. 

“That was the story of Jacob, the Indian. 

“Therefore, Deming knew that something had hap- 
pened to Fitzherbert on the trail and he made ready 
with all the men and dogs at his disposal to set out 
for Minto and find out what the matter was back there 
on the trail. Fifield accompanied him, and Wheeler, 
both men who knew the North and had done good 
service with the Force. An Indian made the party four 
strong, and they took three dogteams; five dogs to a 
team. 

“Now I must tell you something of the trail from 
Fort Resolution to Fort Minto; and you must listen 
carefully, because I am going to take you up that trail 
and back again, beating away from it up hidden creeks 
and rivers, crossing the bleak divide, and recrossing it ; 
traveling with Deming and Fitzherbert in a torturing 
cold, and you must not lose your way. 

“The trail was a matter of river beds. Glistening 
white roadways of snow covered ice walled by black 
evergreens and rugged banks. From the northern 
shore of Great Slave Lake it led up the Limestone 
River till one came to a spot where it nearly touched 
the Elk. Then portage, crossing rough ground till the 

136 


TRAVELING LIGHT 


Elk River was reached. Then portage once more. 
This portage took one over the divide ; that is, over the 
peak of the land on the other side of which the water 
flowed north. Over the divide the trail led, and a little 
way down the northern slope it ran into Wilderness 
Creek, a narrow, tortuous trail, often obscured by the 
straggling woods through which it wound. Down Wil- 
derness Creek (being careful to keep to the bed of the 
stream), to where it joined the wide pathway of the 
Little Thunder River. Down the Little Thunder to its 
junction with the Thunder, and at this spot one must 
take care, for another stream, the Rain River, joined 
the Thunder here and the two icy pathways branched 
before one confusingly. If the wrong trail is chosen 
our provisions may fail, and cold death overtake us 
before the mistake is mended. One must choose care- 
fully here, and follow unerringly the winding course 
of the Thunder River; and down the Thunder, into 
the Pool ; down and down until Fort Minto is reached, 
and the Pool River tumbles into Great Bear Lake. 

“From the story the Indian told, Deming knew that 
Fitzherbert had reached the Little Thunder River. 
Traveling in the opposite direction on the trail I have 
just described, he had evidently taken a short cut, in 
his expert resolute manner, following Portage Creek 
from Thunder River and having the Indian guide to 
take him from the head of that stream to Little Thun- 
der River. From Little Thunder, of course, Deming 
137 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


knew that Fitzherbert must have traveled up Wilder- 
ness Creek and crossed the divide — if he had continued. 

“The weather was warm when Deming and his party 
started out, the thermometer playing about the zero 
mark, and the trail was good. Deming made all haste, 
bearing in mind the thing which underlay his mission, 
and he started swiftly for the divide. But Wheeler 
froze one foot. The river was badly flooded at first. 
Inches of water and slush lay on its icy surface. The 
weather was too warm — nearly as high as zero remem- 
ber. All the party got their feet thoroughly wet. 
Then, on the upgrade, the water vanished and left them 
a floor of shining ice — with an upward slope. So they 
had to cut footholds in the ice, moving slowly, and the 
result was that Wheeler froze his foot. They all 
changed their moccasins and stockings, but although 
they beat and chafed Wheeler’s feet unmercifully, the 
pain of the frostbite lingered and he continued the bit- 
ter five-hundred-mile journey in severe suffering. This 
trouble of tilted, glassy floor and freezing moisture, 
made the journey up to the divide a stressful one. 
After a day of weighted toboggans pulled up the gla- 
cier side, and dogs carried up after footholds had been 
cut with axe and pick, all were tired and aching; and 
poor Wheeler groaned with his pain in the cold Arctic 
night. But somewhere on the trail a secret lay hidden 
— and that secret they had set out to find. There could 
be no rest or comfort for them till they had found it. 

138 


TRAVELING LIGHT 


“They had ten hard days on the uptrail. Sometimes 
where the snow was deep in the gorges all the dogs 
were hitched to one toboggan and they fought a way 
through, and went back again three times for the oth- 
ers. Only for two days was it cold. Once 62 degrees 
below, then 50 degrees below, and on these two days 
a thick fog clung to the glacier and often they found 
themselves ankle deep in icy slush and water. On these 
occasions they paddled about in the water, Wheeler 
gritting his teeth with pain, until they could drag their 
loads to dry ice again. But they fought their way to 
the divide — and faced a gale. 

“It was heavy work breaking trail over the soft snow 
of the pass at Elk Portage and when they struck the 
glacier on the other side of the divide a flood of thick 
water was there, and thin ice which sank beneath them. 
The gale, straight out of the north, made it bitterly 
cold, and it impeded them as well. They had to push 
against it, leaning forward. Now their real work be- 
gan. The work of trail finding. To track Fitzher- 
bert’s party and read in his trail whatever could be 
gathered from it. 

“About the middle of March — they were fourteen 
days out from Resolution — they came upon a day of 
thick fog, bitter cold, and the unabating gale. The 
patches of water on the ice of the Little Thunder River, 
for they had now come to the upper reaches of that 
stream, caught them unawares here and there, and 
139 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


forced them to make for the banks. Thus their course 
was a painful zig-zag. Ziz-zagging in this manner they 
found an old trail, but it revealed nothing more than 
that some one had traveled south within the last two 
months. They set upon this trail, however, as keenly 
as a hunting pack, and their eager, trained eyes scanned 
all the river unhidden by the fog, from bank to bank 
as they followed it. The trail ran into water and dis- 
appeared. They split, so as to cover both banks, and 
met again on the other side of the water. Again they 
followed the shallow trail, losing it on the ice, finding it 
again on the bars in the river. Then the sign of a snow- 
shoe stood out clear and well marked on the hardened 
snow, a peculiar thing. Deming put his own snowshoe 
over this mark. It overlapped it by almost a foot. 
Deming remembered the remark of Jacob, the Indian. 
'Their snowshoes were small snowshoes.’ So he knew 
that this was Fitzherbert’s trail. 

"He picked it up on Little Thunder River, and that 
was an important thing. Evidently Fitzherbert had 
not crossed the divide, for no trail had appeared on 
the slope of the opposite side. Besides, had Fitzherbert 
struck any other stream on the other side he must 
eventually have reached the Elk River where many In- 
dian hunters camped in the wintertime, and these, re- 
turning to Resolution, would have reported him. Fitz- 
herbert had not crossed the divide. Where, then, was 
he? 

140 


TRAVELING LIGHT 


“The question kept Deming’ s persistent, plaintive 
company in the bitter, northern gale, beside his bleak 
camp fires, under the stars. 

“Fitzherbert was too good a traveler to have left 
the river. He had not crossed the divide. His trail 
ended near the head of the Little Thunder. Where, 
then, was he? 

“They came to the point where Little Thunder joined 
the Thunder River, and here the Rain River branched 
forth as well. The trail disappeared at this point in 
the roughness of the ice pack, snow and water-filled 
crevices. Deming, with the thought that Fitzherbert 
might have tried the Rain River by mistake, left the 
footsore Wheeler and Fifield to make camp in a clump 
of timber, and set out with the Indian to search the 
banks of the Rain. He zig-zagged up from bank to 
bank, beating his way into underbrush, and digging 
away drifted snow; but the examination yielded him 
nothing. He returned to the junction of the rivers, and 
seeing the camp-fire smoke of the rest of his party, he 
entered the f hicket where they lay. He was tired out. 

“ ‘Has this a familiar appearance, Sergeant ?' asked 
Fifield, as Deming gratefully drank hot coffee. There 
is an old camp over yonder. We found this near it/ 

“He held in the firelight a piece of a flour sack. It 
was marked in a corner with a broad arrow and the 
legend ‘R.N.W.M. Police, Fort Minto.’ So Deming, 
before eating or further rest, sought the site of the old 
141 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


camp. It had been a night camp, as the marks of the 
sleepingbags showed. Several food tins lay about the 
fireplace. There was nothing more. Only this silent, 
desolate witness to the man who had disappeared. 

“The next day was hard going. Drifted snow filled 
the river with sharp hillocks and crested waves. The 
snow was crusted and it cut the dogs’ feet, or, break- 
ing beneath the men’s snowshoes, tripped them; and 
there was the bitter gale. Fitzherbert’s trail was hid- 
den here by drifted snow. But keen eyes kept watch 
on the banks and a break in the brush betrayed to them 
the site of another night camp. The mystery was 
deepened with this. This camp was barely four miles 
from the camp of the previous night. What, then, had 
held Fitzherbert back? Was one of his party injured? 

“Deming thought it over as he pushed northward, 
into the gale, as he swept the banks eagerly with his 
eyes, as his dogs whined at the torturing snow’s crust, 
as the toboggans spilled in the hollows. That day re- 
vealed nothing to them, the fog hung low over open 
water toward the end of the day. The trail did not 
reappear. 

“The following day, however, revealed to them three 
more camps all within fifteen miles. Night camps 
close together. They must have traveled slowly, pain- 
fully. What was the burden which delayed them ? 

“The fog lifted that day, or rather the gale swept 
it behind them, and they saw the ice swept bare for the 
142 


TRAVELING LIGHT 


first time. It was clear of the drifting snow, and only 
one thing marred its glistening, slippery surface. Near 
the river’s edge a hard-packed trail stood out on the 
ice like a welt, and it bore the imprint of the short 
snowshoes. They were pointed down river, into the 
north, toward Minto ! 

“Deming pushed on, although the feet of man and 
beast as well, slipped on the glistening surface of the 
ice. Five miles below the last of Fitzherbert’s camps 
they found another — a scant five miles. This was at 
‘Enoch’s Tent,’ an old hunting lodge where a stream 
called Peak Creek entered the Thunder River; and a 
vaguely marked trail wound away up the creek. They 
were tired and the day was near a close, but hot on the 
scent, they followed that trail. Six miles up the wind- 
ing sheet of ice they came upon their first intelligible 
clew. Here was a little cabin, the remains of another 
camp, and cached in the cabin was a toboggan, seven 
sets of dog harness, and search revealed — bones. The 
shoulder blade and the legs of a dog. A dog which 
had been killed, and cooked, and eaten. Also there 
was a small quantity of dried fish in the cabin. 

“So the night camps close together, and the snow- 
shoes pointing northward were explained. Fitzher- 
bert’s patrol had returned. Some of those camps 
marked the outward journey. Others marked the jour- 
ney back to Minto. And they were short of provisions, 
for they had killed a dog. Yet dried fish remained. 
143 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Perhaps the dog had died from hardship or accident, 
and they had made use of the flesh to conserve the food 
supply. Evidently they were well equipped for the re- 
turn as they still must have two teams of dogs left, 
and the fish. Obviously they had returned to Minto. 
Deming felt relieved and glad. They must surely have 
made it. He had feared for them. 

“Now Deming and his party urged their pace for- 
ward, keeping close to the vanishing trail. Finding it, 
losing it, backing and zig-zagging, they followed it. It 
revealed that Fitzherbert had kept to the open stream 
always. He had avoided rough portages which would 
have cut off miles from the river trail. He had fol- 
lowed Peak Creek till it nearly touched the river again, 
thus avoiding by a nine-mile detour a five-mile stretch 
of rough trekking through a gorge. This puzzled 
Deming. Had Fitzherbert been burdened with some- 
thing hard to carry? A sick man or an injured one? 
This he thought must be the case. 

“So they traveled for three more days, eagerly fol- 
lowing Fitzherbert’s tortuous trail which led them 
miles over rough foothills to avoid a mountain climb, 
and which was often obscured by the heavy drifted 
snow which made their progress difficult. 

“At a point some sixty miles from Minto they 
came upon ‘Campbell’s Cabin.’ This was a well-known 
landmark, the hunting lodge of a man who had spent 
every winter of his life trapping here. They camped 
144 


TRAVELING LIGHT 


there, and in the morning, before they left, Deming 
discovered two packages perched on a beam of the 
cabin. 

“ 'What can old Campbell have cached up there?' 
said Deming. 

“ 'Look and see,' said Fifield, addressing the Indian. 
And the Indian climbed up and pulled the packages 
down. 

"A mail bag stamped with the royal arms and (G. R. 
— George Rex) just as mail bags were stamped in 
London, or India, or Montreal. A symbol of civiliza- 
tion, an emblem of great cities and the comfort and 
luxury of them. On a beam in Campbell's cabin. The 
other package was a dispatch bag fashioned of leather. 
That was stamped ‘R.N.W.M.P.’ A symbol of bitter 
struggle in the Wilderness; ever-present danger and 
privation to prepare the way and build such cities as 
London and Montreal are to-day. 

“Fitzherbert had left these bags. It was obviously 
an effort to lighten his load, but he had not found it 
necessary to do this until he was barely two-days' 
journey from Minto. Deming felt now that, what- 
ever his burden, Fitzherbert must have made his goal. 

"The morning after Deming and his party left 
Campbell’s cabin they found very little was left of the 
portage from the Thunder River to the Pool, so they 
hurried on, very tired of the bitter trail, and sore from 
the hardships of it. When they reached the Pool 
145 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


River they would feel their journey over. Only forty- 
five miles or so and the warm cheer of hospitality at 
an open fireplace awaited them. The cheery hospitality 
of white men to white men in the far North. So they 
pushed on, keeping a sharp lookout for Fitzherbert’s 
trail. 

“Just before the land dropped away to the Pool they 
came upon a round, clear sheet of ice, a little lake, 
frozen and windswept. In the center of this lake, 
standing forth incongruously in all that howling wilder- 
ness was a pile of tent poles, some duffel and a cook^ 
ing stove. Alone and desolate they lay with all the 
pathetic appeal of intimate, human articles left behind 
a departed owner. Very solemnly, as though remov- 
ing the remains of some loved animal, the three white 
men carried these things to the side of the trail, ex- 
amined them mutely, and took up their journey again. 

“Deming wrote to me afterward and told me all this. 
He said that it w*as at this point he first feared what he 
was so soon to realize. . . . 

“A little subdued, and with each man thinking his 
own thoughts, the party made its way to the Pool River 
and started the last stretch of the journey. 

“They had proceeded down the river about three or 
four miles when they came upon another sign. There 
was a deep cut at this point and the banks of the river 
were quite high. The bank to their right was crowned 
with a thicket of spruce trees and further on, where 
146 


TRAVELING LIGHT 


one end of the cut sloped to the river, a number of 
willow trees overhung the stream. Under these willows 
lay an abandoned toboggan with several sets of dog 
harness. A handkerchief was tied to a branch of a 
gaunt willow tree and a little trail led up the slope. 
Deming left the others at the riverside and clambered 
through the snow to the top of the bank. Here he 
found a small open camp. A fire had been there and 
a kettle was on the cold ashes. Many articles lay about 
where they had been dropped. A blunt and broken 
ax; a frying pan; some packages of matches. Close 
to the fire was piled high a mass of blankets, sleeping 
robes, and furs. Deming looked at the kettle. It was 
half full of moose skin, cut into pieces. It had been 
boiled — Deming approached the pile of robes and threw 
them off. One and two and three armsful of them, 
until he saw what lay beneath; what he had known 
would lay beneath when he first saw the pitiful encamp- 
ment. He walked quietly to the edge of the bank and 
called to the men below. 

“ Tifield !’ he called, softly. Wheeler ! Come here/ 

“They came up the bank and followed him to the 
desolate fireplace. There, gravely, and with an infinite 
feeling of sorrow, they stood, looking upon the dead. 

“The bodies of two men lay under those blankets. 

“Deming knew one of them. It was Sheehan, a 
constable of the Minto Post. The other man Deming 
did not recognize, but Fifield identified him as Cart- 
147 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


wright, another man of the Mounted Police. It was 
plain that they had both died of cold, hunger, and ex- 
haustion. An examination of the two bodies revealed 
the burden which had held Fitzherbert back in his re- 
turn journey. Constable Sheehan’s feet had been so 
severely frozen that they were swollen to an unbeliev- 
able degree; and black, and cracked horribly. Signs 
about the camp showed that he must have crawled 
about on his hands and knees the last few days, or it is 
to be hoped, hours. For death must have been very 
welcome when it came to him. The expression of 
pain, of worn desolation, upon his face, indicated that. 

“Deming mentioned this in his letter. 

“ ‘You will remember Sheehan,’ he wrote, ‘in those 
happy days we had together at Peace River. He was 
such a wholesome, happy Irishman, with his curly, fair 
hair and his twinkling gray eyes. I used to think that 
he had kept in his big powerful body the soul of his 
childhood in Ireland. Do you remember the night 
when West played the old piano, and Sheehan stood 
with his back to the door of the cabin and sang those 
Irish songs? I can see him now with his face alight 
with mirth. And this was his end. Crawling on hands 
and knees, a gaunt skeleton of a man, swathed and 
padded with every heavy garment which he had. 
Crawling about, his face woefully drawn with pain, 
and gaunt with the hunger which led him to eat boiled 
moose skin; dragging those terrible feet behind him.’ 

148 


TRAVELING LIGHT 


“Finally, of course, he had crawled into the blankets, 
piled high the robes, he and Cartwright, and from that 
bed in the Northern wilds they had never risen. ‘Their 
knees were drawn up in pain/ Deming wrote. 

“Deming and the others made camp near this silent 
place. Under the blankets where the two had died, 
various papers had been found, and among these was 
Fitzherbert’s diary which held the story of his ill-fated 
trip. Deming read it at his camp fire. 

“This point was about thirty-five miles from Minto 
and not a long day’s journey. So Deming still hoped 
for Fitzherbert and the other member of the party. 
In the morning they started out briskly after covering 
the bodies of the dead men. But the trail Fitzherbert 
had left was woefully light now. A straggling, narrow 
trail with many scattered places and many points where 
it disappeared entirely. Each time it disappeared, 
Deming’s heart sank, for he feared that it might be the 
end ; but for ten miles it vanished and reappeared, van- 
ished and reappeared again, the straggling trail of 
feeble and exhausted men. 

“Then, ten miles from the camp of Sheehan and 
Cartwright, the trail ran into the bank and disappeared 
in a scuffle of frozen snow. Deming kicked about in 
the snow, seeking a clew, and a pair of broken snow- 
shoes was revealed. On the bank was the trail of a 
man. The four men followed it — 

“They came to the end of their search. An open 
149 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


space where no camp had been made but where the 
remains of a fire lay. There were the same scattered 
utensils, but no pile of blankets. A little distance from 
one side of the fire, lay outstretched the body of a man. 
His arms had been folded across his breast, his face 
was covered with a cloth. The body appeared stiff 
and hard, singularly like the carved effigies of Cru- 
saders which lie in old world churches. Across the 
remains of the fire lay another man. Fitzherbert him- 
self, like a true leader, the last to lie down and rest. 
He lay on his back with one hand on his heart. His 
right arm was flung wide of the body. His blue eyes 
stared up at the sky. In his belt was a paper on which 
had been scrawled with charred wood, a message. 

“ ‘All money in dispatch bag and bank, clothes, etc., 
I leave to my dearly beloved mother. God bless all.’ 

“His dearly beloved ” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE PRICE 

So long did Renfrew sit staring into the fire, puffing 
at his pipe after recounting Deming’s discovery and 
its sad consequences, that the Explorers, waiting 
breathlessly about the fire, wondered if he had more 
to tell. 

Alan spoke quietly, softly, adjusting his voice to a 
repression which filled the air. 

“Is that all ?” he said. 

Renfrew looked up at him and gazed into his face 
for a moment silently. 

“I was thinking,” he said. 

“They covered these bodies. The four living men 
who had just made the journey, in attempting which 
these other four had died. Then they made their way 
on to the Fort. Two dog teams set out the following 
day and brought the bodies in. This was the first 
news Fort Minto had of the disaster. They had imag- 
ined Fitzherbert safely in Dawson. They had envied 
him and his party their visit to civilization. They ex- 
pected him back. 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“The Police at the post joined Deming in the work 
of making coffins and the following morning the four 
were buried in one grave, four coffins side by side. A 
firing party saluted their dead comrades at the last and 
an ordained clergyman read the burial service. An 
ordained minister in this the most northern frontier 
of a mighty empire, hundreds of miles from civiliza- 
tion, read the service. 

“That really ends one part of the story. Deming 
and his party returned to Resolution. They returned 
through a snowstorm which afflicted Fifield for a day 
with snow blindness. They followed river trails which 
were treacherous because of the melting ice. Fifield 
and the Indian fell through twice. Soft snow was on 
the trail and they slopped through it while it froze to 
their snowshoes. The trip at that season was a haz- 
ardous one. It would make a story in itself ; but there 
is another which is more interesting. Let me leave 
Deming now with the remark that in spite of his hunt 
for Fitzherbert and the dangerous and difficult con- 
dition of the trail, he made the trip to Minto and back 
in record time. A thousand miles in forty days. 

“You want to know now of Fitzherbert. What 
could have happened to him to bring disaster to his 
party on the trail which Deming traveled so jauntily? 
There happened to him a combination of several little 
things any one of which may bring death to men in 
the North. 


IS* 


THE PRICE 


“Deming sent me a copy of Fitzherbert’s diary, with 
his letter, and let me read between the lines, his story. 
‘He had planned to travel light/ explained Deming. 
‘He carried provisions sufficient for thirty days only. 
He felt that the trip should take thirty-five days and 
that game would provide them with enough to make 
up for the five extra days of travel. The usual time 
allowed for this trip was thirty-nine days. Fitzherbert 
also declined an Indian guide who knew the route thor- 
oughly. He trusted to Cartwright who had made the 
trip up from Resolution but never in the opposite di- 
rection. Thus he set out from Fort Minto on Decem- 
ber 2 1 st for a quick journey to Resolution/ 

“As I read Deming's letter, I saw dancing between 
the lines of his fine writing the true meaning of these 
words. ‘He planned to travel light/ Fitzherbert, who 
knew the North as few men knew it, had scoffed at 
Deming’ s heavy patrols. He had set out to show how 
quickly it could be done by traveling light. It is pos- 
sible that he might have done it, but Cartwright failed 
him. 

“You remember the route Deming had followed — 
going south, of course, would be just a reversal of 
that route. So under Cartwright's guidance they made 
their way up the Pool, over the portage to the Thunder, 
into the Little Thunder. This river they followed for 
fifty-five miles at which point they should have been 
close to Wilderness Creek up which they must turn, 
153 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


you remember, to the divide. Cartwright could not 
find Wilderness Creek, however. Fitzherbert sent him 
up to reconnoiter and he returned with the report that 
no creek was to be found. Fitzherbert felt that since 
the river was so narrow here, and obviously near its 
source, they must have come up too far. So he turned 
back. 

“ ‘That was his fatal move/ wrote Deming in his let- 
ter. ‘When Fitzherbert turned back he must have 
been but a few miles from Wilderness Creek. He 
turned back to his death/ 

“Had he made directly back to Minto all would 
have been well. This he would probably have done 
had he not been so experienced a traveler and had he 
not been urged by duty. His orders were to proceed 
to Fort Resolution, you see. They said nothing of 
turning back. As it was he felt sure of himself. He 
was to prove the fact that this trail could be traveled 
quickly; that Deming’s preparations were unjustified. 

“He traveled back five miles and turned up another 
creek, following it for four miles. Cartwright found 
it was not Wilderness Creek, so they returned to the 
river. 

“There followed a week of futile, hopeful search. 
Miles were traveled in the exploration of creeks and 
rivers which turned out always to be false. Finally 
came the entry in Fitzherbert’s diary of January 17. 

“ ‘Sent Cartwright and Sheehan off in the morning 

154 


THE PRICE 


to follow a river going south by east; they returned 
at 3 :30 P.M. and reported that it ran right up the 
mountain, and Cartright said it was not the right river. 
I left at 8 A.M. and followed a river south but could 
not see any cuttings on it. Cartwright is completely lost 
and does not know one river from another. We have 
now only ten pounds of flour and eight pounds of bacon 
and some dried fish. My last hope is gone and the 
only thing I can do is to return and kill some of the 
dogs to feed the others and ourselves unless we can 
meet some Indians. We have been a week looking 
for a river to take us over the divide, but there are 
dozens of rivers and I am at a loss. I should not have 
taken Cartwright’s word that he knew the way.’ 

“With that first confession of error we see Fitz- 
herbert in a new light. He is not the self-confident, su- 
perior woodsman now. He is stripped of the conceit 
which made him a little less than the men he led. From 
this time on, his bravery and resolution stand forth 
unobscured by his besetting weakness. From this time 
on it is probable that he saw more and more vividly the 
terrible fate to which his vanity had brought his com- 
rades. God knows his self-sacrifice was sufficient, and 
his punishment was deep, from this time on. 

“The patrol was then about two hundred and sixty 
miles from Minto and about two hundred from Reso- 
lution. The next day they killed a dog and gave it to 
the other dogs for food. But the dogs would not eat 
155 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


it. So they fed them the fish and ate the dog meat 
themselves. 

“From that day the doomed men traveled two hun- 
dred and thirty miles; the trail was heavy and they 
were insufficiently nourished. Sheehan went through 
the ice one day and Fitzherbert went through, too, in 
an attempt to aid him. It was then that Sheehan be- 
came crippled; one foot was frozen to a degree de- 
manding amputation ; the other was badly frozen, too. 
There were days when Sheehan hobbled grimly on, 
praying for the final day, I think. 

“All the men sickened, Fitzherbert said, from eat- 
ing dog meat. That was all they had. Their bodies 
became emaciated, their faces gaunt and drawn. They 
pressed on frantically, but daily their journey became 
shorter, their steps more feeble. There were days of 
mist and snowstorm when they groped about the river 
bed, blind to each other, lashed together. Not daring 
to stay in camp, they tried to get on, and spent theii 
failing strength in a blind, stumbling journey in the 
mist, finding themselves the following day, a pitiful 
distance advanced. 

“Well nigh two hundred and thirty miles they trav- 
eled in this way on dog meat and in agony. Their 
flesh turned blackish red, their skin peeled from their 
faces, their feet cracked and peeled till their mocca- 
sins touched the quick. And yet no thought or word 
of revolt or anger at their leader was evidenced. In 
156 


THE PRICE 


fine comradeship and splendid forbearance these skele- 
tons hobbled on till a day came when Sheehan, he of 
the light heart and of the soul of a child, was on all 
fours in the snow. 

“Fitzherbert made a camp then. He left Sheehan 
and Cartwright with the promise to make Fort Minto 
in another morning and send aid to them. He left them 
there, and making his last entry in his diary, he left 
that, too, and all the food except a day’s rations. No 
dogs now were left. T think we will make it all right/ 
he wrote in his diary. 

“So with Calvert he struggled on. 

“Then the food failed, then Calvert failed, and Fitz- 
herbert crossed the man’s arms on his chest and cov- 
ered up his face. Then the last embers of the fire died. 
He lay among the ashes, seeking warmth. ‘God bless 
all,’ he wrote. 

“The night fell and passed away again. Another 
day passed over him. And the night came once more, 
and he lay still.” 

* * * * * * 

Renfrew looked across the red glow of the fire at 
the quiet boys. 

“A terrible story,” he said, as though in apology. 

He arose. He stood erect above them, above the 
embers, and took a deep breath, looking out over the 
water. 

“But this much you must remember always,” he 
157 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


said, with a great note of earnestness in his voice. “It 
was a splendid thing — ” He paused, considering what 
he had said. “Not the shameful self-confidence of 
Fitzherbert, but the spirit with which he met his fate — 
the spirit which led the men who went out with him to 
follow him, uncomplaining, to their death. 

“The world has been won for you fellows. When 
you run riot in the hills, when you camp at the lake- 
side, remember a little the men who went before. Re- 
member a little the company among whom that lost 
patrol stand to-day. Where Hudson stands, and Ber- 
ing; Scott, who died in the South, and Magellan and 
Drake. How steadfastly they clung to their dreams; 
how calmly they faced death ; how they have made the 
trail safe for you the whole world over. Be worthy 
of them when you are in the open.” 

He stopped abruptly. The boys remained silent, 
staring at him. 

“Bedtime!” he said, and turning, walked into the 
forest while the boys trooped into their tents. He was 
peculiar, in a way. 


CHAPTER X 


THE YELLOW DOG 

With blanket rolls over their shoulders, making even 
wiry Dick Rose seem amazingly plump (amazing, es- 
pecially if you could see the whole length of thin leg 
which supported the blanket-rolled torso of the lad), 
the Explorers climbed the mountain, seeking Surprise 
Lake. It was after long rambling and scrambles up 
precipitous rocky slopes, and trudging up uneven, 
earthy trails, where thick brush and the dead limbs of 
untrimmed trees barred the ways and fought them, 
that they found the lake. And they found at the same 
time how it came by its name. 

It cannot be said that they missed the trail, they 
really never found it. There was no trail. The topo- 
graphical map showed the lake, a round spot of blue 
in the mountains. It seemed on the map to be in the 
lap of a mountain. Neither at the top of it nor at 
the foot. They left the thickets and scrambled up sheer 
naked rock. They skirted the top of such bluffs until 
the brush pushed them to the edge again. Then they 
159 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


turned to clamber to a still higher level and seek a 
passage through the trees. They fought their way 
gloriously through the obstacles before them, always 
climbing and always working around the mountain; 
they panted, and became vastly red and streaming with 
perspiration. Occasionally they threw themselves down 
and listened to their pulses pounding at their temples. 
Lay and rested till Renfrew gave the word to advance 
again. 

They worked completely around the mountain with- 
out ever reaching the top, and it seemed to the boys 
that this weary attempt to break through the barrier 
which guarded the peak might go on forever. 

Then, suddenly, at their feet, lay Surprise Lake. A 
round mirror of blue water, surrounded on three sides 
by the granite of the mountains and on another side 
by the green undergrowth and trees which screened it 
from the Explorers until the splendid moment when 
they burst through and found it, calm and inviting at 
their feet. 

They rested for a while and then they bathed in it, 
and their voices emphasized the high solitude of the 
mountain lake. 

It was a long, hilarious swim, and then at a fire 
among the rocks they ate. They ate mightily. It was 
epic. 

Happy, and full, and lazy, the Explorers lay about 
their camp fire and argued one thing and another. Es- 
160 


THE YELLOW DOG 


pecially they argued a little trail which ran out of the 
brush onto their rocky clearing, a little, low tunnel 
through the brush. 

"It's an animal run,” said Billy Loomis. “They 
come to the lake for water.” 

But there was dissension. It was finally, in a bitter 
moment, referred to Renfrew. 

“Perhaps it is,” he said. “There must be lots of ani- 
mals about here. It looks like a run. Why don’t you 
examine it and see?” 

There were groans as Alan and Dick Rose and Bub 
Currie rose from their couch of repletion and in their 
eager examination devastated the entrance to the little 
tunnel. 

“There will be fears and hesitation and loud chat- 
ter to-night,” said Renfrew, “when the beasts come out 
for their drink.” 

“Cut it out, Bub!” said Dick, shoving determinedly. 
“A fellow can’t see anything if you bust it all up.” 

“It would be fun to watch here to-night,” said Alan. 
“When the animals come out.” 

“The way you said the Indian boys had to watch 
when they were trained for the hunt,” said Bub. “Let’s 
do it to-night.” 

Renfrew laughed. 

“You’d never keep still enough,” he said. “The In- 
dian youngsters had to sit as still as statues, for hours. 
They sat without twitching a muscle till the quarry 
161 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


passed. It was a sort of game. If the run was fresh 
the animal would pass. Then the boy would hasten 
back to his village and tell the old man, his tutor you 
know, what he had seen. He was counted a dunce if 
he chose a false runway, or if he frightened the animal 
away by moving, or by a sound, or by giving the animal 
his scent. Animals will probably not use that runway 
again. You have betrayed yourselves.” 

“You told about a boy once,” cried Dick, then. 
“Peter something his name was. You said you would 
tell us the story.” 

“He hunted a caribou, you said,” chimed in Phil 
Mayo. “But he found a man.” 

“Tell us now,” suggested Bub. 

“Sure. Now is a good time for a story!” 

“All about Peter something !” cried Howard Hough. 

“Please !” 

“His name,” observed Renfrew, “was Pitah-Kin, 
which is Scarcee Indian language for Eagle Collar. 
Croyden called him Peterkin, after the boy in the poem 
by Southey. 

“Croyden was a Corporal at Chipewyan, and he was 
Peterkin’s best friend. When all this happened Peter- 
kin was about eleven years old. 

“When Croyden was at Bodine, which is the name 
of the settlement near which the reservation of Peter- 
kin's people was, Peterkin would visit him. He would 
enter the cabin where Croyden stopped and, no matter 
162 


THE YELLOW DOG 


who Croyden might be talking with, or what might be 
the subject, he would sit silently on the floor with his 
back against the wall and listen. He liked to be near 
Croyden. 

“Sometimes Croyden would be alone, and on those 
occasions Peterkin entered a sort of Paradise. He 
would sit on the table dangling his legs and Croyden 
would talk with the diminutive, serious, red boy, about 
all sorts of things for hours. Chiefly they discussed 
Peterkin’s progress on the trail and with his tutors, 
the old braves. And Croyden taught Peterkin a lot 
of English. They talked of the right and wrong of 
things, too. For the most part warlike, heroic things. 

“Peterkin would turn his simple little heart inside 
out for Croyden in these talks. Words cannot describe 
the high place which Croyden held there — 

“One day Peterkin sat like a copper statue clad in 
blue overalls, watching a run which he had tracked 
out with great pains and had decided was a caribou 
trail. He had squatted there for many minutes, per- 
haps three-quarters of an hour or so ; squatting on his 
brown heels waiting for the animal to pass. Later, 
perhaps, it did ; but before it came the man passed by. 
He rode on horseback, leaning down low on his horse's 
neck to avoid the branches of trees which roofed this 
rugged, uneven trail, a caribou run, no more. The 
horse single- footed along the runway and passed very 
close to Peterkin so that, looking up, the boy could see 
163 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


straight into the face of the rider as he leaned over. 
Alertly, and very seriously, the red boy studied the face 
in the brief moment which it appeared. He noticed 
that it bore a hard, hunted look. He noticed that the 
white man was scared. 

“On the heels of the white man’s horse, followed a 
pack pony. Peterkin observed closely all the details 
of this animal’s equipment. He noticed that in a roll 
behind the pack it bore was a bundle of blankets. In 
a roll behind the saddle of the rider was a bundle of 
blankets as well. The horses passed with their burdens 
and Peterkin remained still waiting for them to get out 
of hearing. They had traveled several rods and he was 
about to move, when another traveler came down the 
runway. This was an animal, a shaggy, yellow, Irish 
terrier. It trotted silently, a little furtively down the 
trail, and just when it approached Peterkin’s hiding 
place it stopped, gazing sullenly ahead. From his posi- 
tion further down the trail, the strange horseman had 
called to the dog. He called enticingly, using what 
pet phrases occurred to him. 'Good old fellow,’ he 
called. 'Here, Patsy! Come on, old man!’ Then an 
urgent, commanding tone, 'Patsy ! Come here ! Come, 
Pat !’ The dog stood stock still gazing down the trail, 
stubbornly refusing to obey. 

“Peterkin opened his brown eyes wide at this. He 
was accustomed to seeing dogs obey quickly at the word 
164 


THE YELLOW DOG 


of their master. This was a strange thing. He 
watched the handsome, yellow animal keenly. 

“Suddenly, without changing his position, the dog 
began to curl his lip into a snarl. He made no sound, 
but his lip curled back more and more, showing his 
teeth viciously. Then the hair on his thick, muscular 
neck began to bristle, and Peterkin heard the man 
walking back from where he had left the horses. The 
dog, snarling, stood still. The man came into Peter- 
kin’s view. He approached slowly, and somewhat war- 
ily. In his left hand he carried a rope with a running 
noose in it. ‘Patsy,’ he said soothingly, but in his face 
was black anger. He came nearer to the dog, with the 
noose looped in his right hand, and as he approached 
he kept repeating the dog’s name in soothing tones. 
Patsy turned a little away as the man approached, and 
lowered his head, glaring up at the man sideways. 
From deep in his throat rose an ominous rumble. Still 
repeating ifis terms of endearment, the man stooped 
over, extending his right hand as though to pat the 
dog’s head. There was a flash of tawny yellow as the 
dog struck home and leaped away; and a volley of 
curses as the man jumped back, his right hand slashed 
well nigh to the bone. Patsy, the deed done, darted 
further back the trail and turned again to watch the 
man. His victim flung down the rope, and picking up 
chunks of wood, or stones, hurled them at the animal 
wildly, and cursed as he did so. The dog neatly dodged 

165 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


what missiles came his way, and waited further events. 

Tiring in a moment of his futile attack, the man 
turned and walked back in the direction of his horses. 
Soon Peterkin heard him returning, and as he came the 
dog warily turned tail and disappeared up the runway, 
and Peterkin, without having moved a muscle as he 
watched all this round-eyed, waited patiently for devel- 
opments. Soon he heard the report of the revolver. 
Three shots, fired at uneven intervals. Then the man 
came back with the revolver butt protruding from his 
trouser pocket, nursing his wounded hand with a look 
of furious determination on his face. He passed Peter- 
kin’s place, and continued to the horses, which Peterkin 
soon heard trotting off down the trail. Still Peterkin 
waited. The hoofbeats of the horses died away in the 
distance ; the utter silence of the forest reigned. Peter- 
kin never moved a muscle. The drama might not be 
over yet, you see, and Peterkin was an Indian. He 
would be sure of the very end before he moved. 

“The end came, of one act at least, soon after the 
hoofbeats died. Suddenly, on the runway, appeared 
the yellow dog. With his nose to the ground, he was 
obviously following the trail of the white horseman. 
He came to the point opposite Peterkin’s hiding place, 
and stopped, scenting the boy. Then, with a terrier’s 
curiosity, he trotted through the brush straight up to 
the little red watchman. Peterkin looked into the ter- 
rier’s eyes without moving, and in a perfectly natural 
1 66 


THE YELLOW DOG 


manner spoke with him. The dog nosed the boy all 
over, licking his face, and talking to him in shrill, 
eager barks. Then Peterkin rose, stretched mightily 
his stiff young body, and with a hand on the dog’s head, 
he walked out onto the trail. Here Patsy suddenly put 
his muzzle to the ground, and as if remembering an im- 
portant engagement, he left Peterkin’s side and trotted 
off down the trail, his nose on the scent, following the 
strange rider. 

“Peterkin watched him until he disappeared, and 
then he, too, struck to the trail, which led to the river. 
And along the river he made his way, running, walking, 
skipping; investigating every sign and incident of the 
riverside until he came to the village of his people. 

“Here he made for the lodge of the old man, his 
tutor, and him he told of the strange happenings he 
had seen upon the caribou run. He told his story with 
a wealth of detail, which I doubt that any white man, 
even a trained detective, could have achieved without 
the aid of a notebook. The old Indian listened to him 
until he had finished, then he asked him to repeat some 
of the incidents and a description of the white man’s 
horse and pack pony. Then he gave his verdict. 'Go 
to Bodine, Pitah-kin,’ he said. 'Tell this tale to the red- 
coat, Croyden, for this is a matter which the redcoats 
should know. When the white man with the yellow 
dog passed through here some time ago his right hand 
was very sick. He may go to Bodine so that the white 
167 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


medicine man may mend it for him. Get to Bodine, 
Pitah-kin, before the white man departs.” 

“So Peterkin ran, and walked, and skipped on his 
way to Bodine. 

“He came to Bodine. He came down the green 
wagon track which wound through the evergreens. But 
for these evergreens which always seem to me inhos- 
pitable and hard shelter at best, and the scant green 
grass which edged the wagon track, Bodine has very 
little natural beauty to commend it. There is much dust 
of brown earth in its streets, when the snow does not 
fill them ; and its gray log cabins are scattered in a dis- 
orderly array. On three sides of the settlement are the 
gaunt hills clad with scattered thickets of evergreen 
trees, on the other side was the clear blue lake, with its 
yellow shores, and the surrounding brush. Bodine was 
notable chiefly for its fine isolation, and the consequent 
clear stillness of its environs; it was a notable place 
for Peterkin, because Croyden had his cabin there. Of 
course, later Croyden went on his way, and Peterkin 
was left then without him ; and without any one in the 
world who could ever take his place. In those later 
years Croyden often thought of the little savage; it was 
in a moment of such reflection, at the King’s Hotel at 
Regina, that he told me this story. He was fond of 
Peterkin, and remembered him. Peterkin’s love for 
Croyden was of a more splendid sort. Peterkin loved 
the man so well, that after he was gone the man Peter- 
168 


THE YELLOW DOG 


kin loved 5 tayed in his heart, and made him brave, and 
good, and merciful, and fair in all the things he did — - 
always. 

“As I h; ive said, Croyden told me of this in a com- 
fortable hour after dinner, at the hotel in Regina. It 
seems the white man rode into Bodine early in the 
afternoon. He, Croyden, had been at work on a bit of 
land which he cultivated, and was not in uniform. He 
believed, he said, that had Klien, which was the name 
of the strange rider, known that there was a policeman 
at Bodine, he would never have come into the town, 
even though the wound in his hand was badly poisoned. 
But as it was he rode in with his pack animal, and 
sought the doctor. Doctor Dufoyle was at that mo- 
ment sitting before Croyden’s fireplace puffing a pipe 
after having lunched heartily with the policeman. 
Klien rode up to the porch and dismounting, entered 
the cabin. Croyden welcomed him in, for which he was 
rewarded by a slight grin showing under the stranger’s 
black beard. The man’s face seemed drawn out of all 
proportion with the hurt of his right hand. This hurt 
he showed to the doctor, who further made use of 
Croyden’s hospitality by treating it in his kitchen. He 
lanced the hand, cleaned out the wound, and bandaged 
it. 

“It thereupon developed that Klien had not yet 
lunched, so Croyden placed food and milk upon his 
table, and with the doctor he sat beside the fire while 
169 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


the man ate. They questioned him tactfully, and while 
they spoke, Peterkin came in. As usual when he found 
Croyden engaged he sat like a mouse on the floor 
against the wall, and he sat so quietly that he might 
have been a stuffed Indian boy as the moose head above 
him was stuffed, or the great eagle which spread its 
wings over the fireplace. He sat there listering to all 
that Klien had to say. 

“The man seemed eager to tell about himself. It 
was a dog which had wounded his hand ; some Indian 
hound which he had tried to pet. He would never 
make that mistake again. He had been prospecting on 
the Black Snake river, but had found very little except 
for an occasional nugget, and a handful or so of dust. 
He had camped some five days' journey up the river. 
Now he was on his way down the Athabasca. He had 
procured his horses and kit at Edmonton. 

“Croyden remarked upon his daring in taking such 
a trip alone. The dangers must have been great, he 
said, for a lone prospector. Was he accustomed to 
this country? Yes, replied Klien, he was accustomed 
to the country pretty well. 

“The doctor thought it was a pretty reckless adven- 
ture. Supposing this matter of blood poisoning had 
come about while he was up the Black Snake, reasoned 
the doctor, his chances would have been very small. 
Klien was inclined to scoff at that, and he set out to 
make it very clear to them that he had, indeed, been 
170 


THE YELLOW DOG 


alone. He emphasized it, and became quite excited 
about it. 'All alone/ he cried. T tell you there was 
no one with me ! Why should I have any one with me ? 
I know this country like a book! No one was neces- 
sary, was there? I wanted no one else. I am not a 
man who cares for much company. I preferred to go 
alone. There’s nothing in that, is there?’ 

"Croyden and the doctor hastened to reassure him, 
wondering at his excitement. 

" 'No/ said Peterkin abruptly, rising to his feet. 
'He was not. No, he was not. There is one dog. He 
is a yellow dog.’ And that was all the little fellow 
could find English words to say. 

''The effect of this shrill voice, coming so unexpect- 
edly from the stuffed Indian boy, was amazing. Klien 
turned very white, and his voice became abruptly feeble, 
and faltering. He looked at the boy, and said, 'What is 
all this?’ 

"The boy spoke rapidly to Croyden in the language 
of his tribe. 'The dog who bit this white man is a 
good dog. The man shot at him, but he could not kill 
him. The dog is the dog of another man. This man 
carries two blanket rolls. He was not alone !’ With a 
bellow of rage Klien turned on the boy, and made as if 
to strike him. ‘You lie!’ he cried. 

"Croyden leaped to the man’s side, seizing his arm. 
'Sit down!’ he ordered curtly. The man returned to 
171 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


his seat, and as he did so Croyden stood between him 
and the door. 

“ T think you should know, Mr. Klien/ he said, ‘that 
I am of the Mounted Police. Under the circumstances 
you will understand the necessity which confronts me 
of detaining you. You will consider yourself my guest 
until this matter is investigated. Of course you will 
be only too glad of the opportunity to prove that what 
the boy has said is not true, or if it should be true, 
that it means nothing which is irregular. I warn you 
that anything you may say now may be used to your 
disadvantage/ 

“Klien took it very coolly. ‘Of course/ he said, ‘the 
matter must be cleared up. Em sorry I got so mad. 
It looks bad. The kid made me mad.’ 

“So Croyden and the doctor questioned him. At 
first he stuck to his story that he made the trip alone ; 
but they went outside and examined the packs which he 
carried. They found the two blanket rolls, made up 
separately, and found also some clothes with the initials 
B. D. H. marked upon them. B. D. H., of course, 
could mean any name, but certainly not that of Klien. 
Then Klien admitted that there had been another man. 
A man whose name he did not know had joined him 
for a day or two, and had then gone off to Mallard 
Lake. He had left these things behind. He carried a 
sleeping bag and forgot the blanket roll; he had also 
left the clothes. He had taken some of Klien’s clothes, 
172 


THE YELLOW DOG 


he supposed by mistake. He had not mentioned this 
man because he had been only a casual campmate. 
When questioned about the dog, Klien replied that this 
had been an Indian cur which he had fed, and which 
had followed him. When he endeavored to pet it the 
dog had bitten him. The boy either lied or was mis- 
taken about hearing the dog called Patsy. He had 
never called the dog by any name. 

“It was a likely story, but Croyden knew either 
Peterkin or Klien was lying, and he believed that it was 
not Peterkin. 

“Peterkin, meanwhile, had found a treasure. He 
found it on the ground where the man had opened the 
packs. It was a broken brass tie pin with a bright 
onyx stone. This pin Peterkin put in the pocket of his 
overalls where he already kept two bright pebbles, a 
pocket knife which could not be opened for the rust on 
it, and a single worn penny piece. 

“The men turned to the house again; and on the 
porch stood, backing away from their approach, the 
yellow dog. Klien cursed and dashed forward. The 
dog leaped from under the sweep of his arm, and 
bounded away to a safe distance. Croyden and the 
doctor exchanged glances as they followed Klien up 
the porch steps, and Peterkin, huddling closely up to 
Croyden’s side, called suddenly, ‘Patsy.’ The dog 
lifted his head and took a pace or two toward them. 
173 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Klien glared at the boy with desperate fury, and Croy- 
den smiled, understanding the whole little play. 

“The following morning, Croyden and Klien made 
their way to the reservation, and were accompanied by 
the boy, Peterkin, and Firth, the Hudson Bay Com- 
pany’s factor who was to be Croyden’s assistant in this 
business. 

“At the reservation they took into council the old 
man, Peterkin’s tutor, to whom the boy had first told 
the story. Ki-chi-pwit was a very wise old Indian, and 
he told the white men Peterkin’s story over again and 
added to it many wise observations. Thus he pointed 
out that if Klien really obtained his horses and kit at 
Edmonton he could not be an experienced trail rider — 
not experienced enough to make the trip alone. For 
the spoor of the pack horse showed that it had not been 
shod for many moons. An experienced trekker would 
never have left Edmonton without having that pack 
horse shod. Also, if the white man had nothing to con- 
ceal, why had he followed the caribou runways in- 
stead of the open trail ? It was a bad thing. 

“Ki-chi-pwit would go with his brother, the redcoat, 
and they would follow Klien’s back trail to the point 
where the other man — the unknown man — had been 
left behind. 

“So he did, and two other Indians went with him. 
These were Etah, and John, young men of the tribe.” 


174 


CHAPTER XI 


THE MAN IN THE SWAMP 

“Klien made a graceless and sulky guide,” Renfrew 
continued. “And he was reluctant, too. But Etah 
kept at his bridle rein, and twice had to remind the man 
that the direction he proposed to follow was wrong; 
that his trail plainly showed that he had come another 
way. The ill-shod horse was a great assistance to the 
Indian trackers, for its track stood out to their forest- 
trained sight as a track different from any other in the 
wilderness. And of such remarkable skill were these 
children of nature that they followed at a swift walk, 
a trail which was blank to a white man. 

“After what should have been three days’ journey 
up the Black Snake, but a journey which had used five 
of their days because of the circuitous and secret route 
Klien had favored in the footpaths and game runs, they 
came to Stony Creek. 

“ 'Now this is the trail to Mallard Lake,’ said Croy- 
den. He turned to Klien. 'If your companion went 
to Mallard Lake I presume he left you at this point?’ 
175 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“Klien looked quickly from one to another of the 
party. 

“ ‘Yes/ he said. ‘He went up here/ 

“ ‘He rode with you for how long? One — two days 
— before he reached this point?’ asked Croyden. 

“ ‘Almost two days/ said Klien. ‘I overtook him at 
camp a day and a half up the river.’ 

“ ‘Etah and John/ said Croyden. ‘Follow the trail 
of this other man to Mallard Lake.’ 

“Immediately Etah and John started seeking a 
track. They ran up and down the bank of the Stony 
Creek, which was wide and shallow. They stooped 
close to the earth. They examined rocks and trees. 

“Klien watched them with a smile. Then he laughed. 
‘Fools,’ he cried. ‘You will never find his trail in the 
rocks. He rode up the stream on the sandy bottom. 
The banks were too rocky.’ 

“ ‘Follow it up/ said Croyden quietly. 

“And the two Indians, knee-deep in the shallow 
water, made their way up the creek leading their ponies 
by their halters. The rest of the party rode on. Ki- 
chi-pwit was now at Klien’s bridle, but he had little 
time to discuss the trail. Klien pushed on rapidly 
now ; he explained that from here he had followed the 
open river trail keeping to the banks or riding in the 
streams. Chiefly it seemed he rode in the streams. 
But when he led the party into shallow water, Ki-chi- 
pwit kept to the shore, following a well-defined trail. 
176 


THE MAN IN THE SWAMP 


This irritated Klien noticeably. At the night camps 
Ki-chi-pwit sat beside Croyden and they spoke to- 
gether softly in the Indian language. Klien blinked 
across the blaze at them, puffing his pipe, his black 
beard making his face impassive. None could tell 
what was in his thoughts. 

“So they came one day to the site of a camp which, 
it was apparent, had been used for many days. It lay 
on a high bank of the river, at a point where the Black 
Snake had widened to a placid pool. Directly below 
the bank lay a mess of swampy water thick with rushes 
and the green slime on it. 

“ Ts this one of your camps ?’ Croyden asked. 

“Again the man looked from face to face like a 
baited bear, seeking some loophole. Then, ‘We stayed 
here a night/ he said. ‘It was not a full day’s journey, 
but we found the camp made ready to live in, as you 
see it. So we spent the night here.’ 

“ ‘We’ll do the same,’ said Croyden dryly. 

“In the morning Klien began his preparations for 
the day’s journey; but Croyden interrupted him. It 
was after breakfast. Peterkin played kitchen maid at 
the water’s edge, and Klien was bending over his blan- 
ket roll making it secure. Croyden approached and 
stood over him. 

“ ‘No, not to-day/ he said quietly. 

“Klien dropped his pack and stood erect. ‘We will 

1 77 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


not travel to-day/ Croyden said. T think we will stay 
here and look about us/ 

“ ‘But you are making a mistake/ cried Klien. ‘We 
camped here only for the night. My permanent camp 
was further up. If you are suspicious there is the 
place to look/ Then he approached a step nearer, and 
menaced Croyden with narrowed lids. ‘If you find 
nothing, Mr. Corporal, you will leave the Force. This 
is a serious thing, holding me like this, forcing me to 
travel like this/ 

“Croyden was not abashed. 

“ ‘I think you should know something of our evi- 
dence, Mr. Klien/ he said. ‘From the beginning of our 
journey you have persistently tried to take us off your 
trail. From this point to Stony Creek, according to 
your story, you had a man riding with you. Follow- 
ing your trail from Stony Creek, we find only the 
track of one man leading a badly shod pack pony. 
Your own track. And we have found that track along 
the shore in many places, where you have led us through 
the stream. Under these circumstances surely you will 
want us to make every effort to prove your story 
true/ 

“Klien’s face darkened. ‘Eve only got this to say. 
If you don’t prove your suspicions, Croyden, I’ll break 
you. I’ll run you from the Force and make you a 
laughing stock between here and the border. You have 
178 


THE MAN IN THE SWAMP 


nothing against me, but children’s tales and Indian 
grudges. Prove it. You can’t.’ 

“ ‘Very well,’ said Croyden. ‘Unroll your blankets, 
Klien, and watch me prove it. I’ve a shrewd suspicion 
that we’ll do it here at this very camp.’ 

“Then came Peterkin to Croyden with a confession 
to make, and with the broken onyx pin. This pin and 
the manner in which he had acquired it, worried Peter- 
kin. He knew it had fallen from the blanket roll, and 
that he had done wrong to pocket it. He would have 
given it up sooner only that such acts as this he knew 
were ‘wrong and unworthy’ in Croyden’s code for In- 
dian boys. Peterkin did not wish to appear before 
Croyden as wrong and unworthy. So he thought about 
it for six days, and decided that it was equally unde- 
sirable to appear wrong and unworthy before himself ; 
so he came to Croyden with the pin and with the con- 
fession. Croyden accepted both very gravely, and told 
Peterkin that this confession was an act worthy of a 
chieftain and a brave. ‘You say it came from the blan- 
ket roll ?’ he asked the boy, and Peterkin nodded eagerly 
and happily. He wished he had taken a lot of things 
so that he could confess some more. ‘Then it may have 
belonged to B. D. H.,’ said Croyden. 

“The camp had consisted of two rough shelters of a 
style used often by woodsmen and known as lean-tos. 
They were built of hewn timbers, and one about six 
feet high at its tallest point, had obviously been the 
179 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


abode of two men. In it were the remains of two beds, 
made of cut branches deftly bedded down. The other, 
made higher and more commodious had stabled three 
horses. 

“The fireplace had been built in a pit scooped out in 
the sandy soil. It had an embankment around it made 
sturdy with heavy green logs. The ashes and charcoal 
were deep in the pit and mixed with sand which had 
put out many fires. Evidently the campers had built 
tremendous roaring fires, an unusual thing for experi- 
enced woodsmen to do. The great ashheap rose almost 
level with the embankment surrounding it. 

“Croyden and Firth moved about the encampment all 
morning, examining the lean-tos, the ground about, 
the trees and cuttings. They took many notes. Ki- 
chi-pwit went farther afield. He kept his nose close 
to the ground. He followed invisible tracks ; examined 
grasses and patches of brush with the interest of a 
naturalist poring over a new specimen. All the scraps 
and litter of the old camp were examined by the three 
men as they were found, and Klien sat now here, now 
there, and watched silently. 

“At about noon Etah and John came in. They bore 
little evidence of having traveled day and night, though 
their ponies were very tired. They came in and told 
Croyden their story as Firth listened, too, and the oth- 
ers prepared lunch. 

“The story the Indian trackers told was a simple 
180 


THE MAN IN THE SWAMP 


one. They had followed Stony Creek for two days, 
traveling swiftly so that they covered the distance a 
white man would have covered in three days. If any 
other man had followed the creek within the last two 
months he must have kept in the stream all the way; 
day and night, in depth and shallow, rapid and still 
water; for there was no sign of a traveler on the banks. 
That was their story. 

“It was a silent meal. Only once Klien spoke: 
'What luck?’ he asked mockingly. 'Your friend left 
his hatchet behind,’ said Croyden, and he handed Klien 
a little, battered hatchet. In the wooden handle was 
carved the initials B. D. H. 

“Klien looked at the implement. 'He will miss that,’ 
he said. 

“Croyden gazed significantly at the rusty steel. ‘He 
left it about two months ago, I should say,’ he said 
quietly. 

“Klien stared at him a moment, and then dropped 
his gaze to the ground, plucking at his beard. Then: 
'It was always like this — rusty,’ he said. For the rest 
of the meal they were silent. 

“Afterward the search began again. With Etah 
and John to help it became very thorough. Etah went 
further up the trail to find out what he could of how 
the campers first arrived at this spot. John disap- 
peared into the brush, Ki-chi-pwit combed the river 
edge. Firth attended to the lean-tos which, with Peter- 
181 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


kin’s aid he cleaned out, examining the refuse carefully. 
Croyden delved in the great ashheap of the old fire- 
place. 

“Suddenly Croyden called to Firth and spoke with 
him quietly. Firth left him and coming over to where 
Klien sat watching, he took his place before him, a si- 
lent guard. Then Croyden drew from the ashes the 
charred remnant of a leather boot. Following this 
there came a bit of a flannel shirt, the thick part where 
the collar is; then a piece of belt, a pocketknife, and 
another piece of boot leather. All these Croyden placed 
in a row before him, and began gravely to examine 
them. Klien watched him, impassive. 

“Ki-chi-pwit came to the top of the bank, and 
Klien rose to his feet. The old Indian approached 
Croyden and handed him a broken brass pin. Croyden 
took the onyx bauble from his pocket and matched it 
to the piece the Indian gave him. The broken pieces 
fitted perfectly. ‘Keep an eye on our friend, Firth,’ he 
said. T think our trail leads to the river.’ And he 
followed the Indian down the bank. Klien walked rest- 
lessly up and down, Firth watching him. 

“Soon came Croyden bounding up the bank again, 
and he whistled for the other Indians who came in 
quickly at his call, and at a word from him, followed 
down to the water’s edge. 

“Ki-chi-pwit had been examining the bank occa- 
sionally with microscopical exactitude all day and had 
182 


THE MAN IN THE SWAMP 


told no one of his observations there until he had linked 
them all together. Here were the heelprints of one who 
had gone down the steep slope with a heavy burden, 
digging in his heels to keep his footing. Here were 
threads of dark worsted and of yellow cotton caught 
upon the weeds and thorny bushes ; eight such threads. 
At some time a heavy burden had been rolled or 
dragged down the slope which was covered with 
worsted and cotton material; such as woolen trousers 
and yellow cotton shirt. Perhaps the man who had 
made the heel marks had carried or dragged the bur- 
den. Since this broken brass pin lay on the bank and 
the head of it had been found with Klien, perhaps it 
was Klien who had made the heel marks. 

“ ‘The body lies in the swamp,’ said Ki-chi-pwit, 
simply. This was the first word said among them 
which spoke of murder. 

“Croyden made no remark upon it, but with the 
three Indians he started to search the shore. Of this 
a narrow shelf ran along beneath the bank. It was 
wet, spongy soil, slippery with wet mosses, and the 
thick brush upon the bank overhung it, pushing the 
searchers toward the swamp so that they were often 
in the mucky water above their ankles. Diligently the 
Indians searched, but only found an occasional foot- 
print in the mud, and here and there upon the twigs 
and branches of the underbrush, a tell-tale thread or so. 
While they were searching a rude interruption oc- 

183 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


curred. There came a volley of oaths from above 
where Klien and Firth were, and a stone came hurtling 
down the embankment ; with it came a sinuous, tawny 
body, and the yellow dog was running up and down the 
narrow path about their feet. 

“In a way this ended their search, for the dog, look- 
ing always into the swamp, ran up and down the trail 
barking sharply, as a wolf runs in a cage ; he restricted 
his running within a short space. Thereupon Croyden 
judged that this space probably marked the point where 
the burden had been carried into the bog. 

“The Indians removed their clothes now, and wad- 
ing into the swamp started treading about in the deep 
muck, feeling for the hidden thing; and it was late 
afternoon when they found it. The body of a man. 

“They carried the grewsome object ashore, and up 
the bank. Then they coolly donned their clothes as 
if the thing they had found had been a log. Croyden 
examined it; and Klien, after one furtive look, sat on 
a stone and buried his face in his hands. 

“Croyden found that the dead man had suffered a 
violent blow which had crushed the base of his skull. 
This undoubtedly had killed him. Then Croyden left 
the body and stood over Klien. 

“ ‘Who is this man ?’ he asked, and in his voice was 
the accusation of murder. 

“Klien raised his head, staring at Croyden a little 
wildly. ‘I have never seen him V he cried. 

184 


THE MAN IN THE SWAMP 


“Croyden pointed to where the dog pitifully, fran- 
tically nuzzled at his master’s body. ‘Yet you knew 
his dog,’ he said in the same uncompromising tone. 
‘You knew his dog, and listen! the man’s shirt is 
marked w r ith the same initials his blankets bore. That 
trick of marking his clothes was your undoing, Klien. 
Why did you kill him ?’ 

“Klien rose to his feet. ‘It is not so bad!’ he cried 
passionately. ‘It was an accident. This is how it was. 
My horse fell ill, and we shot him. He lies back there 
in the brush. We quarreled about who should ride the 
other. He didn’t trust me, he thought if I rode the 
horse I might desert him. We had barely food enough 
for two on the journey down. We quarreled for days 
about that miserable horse. Then one day we fought 
with our fists and then we closed in. I threw him and 
his head struck a stone. There! That stone there!’ 
he pointed to a rock partly imbedded in the earth. 
‘That was an accident, wasn’t it? I couldn’t help it, 
could I? I had to defend myself. But it killed him. 
I was scared. You fellows find out so much. I sunk 
the body in the swamp.’ 

“Croyden looked at the man searchingly. There was 
a strange imperturbability about his bearded face, his 
eyes challenged the Policeman. 

“ ‘I see,’ said Croyden. ‘His head struck a rock.’ 

“Then suddenly Klien pushed him aside and would 
have leaped forward had not Firth seized him. ‘Ah, 

185 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


stop him!' cried Klien wildly. ‘Stop him! Not that! 
Ah, God, not that!' He raved, shrieking, so that his 
voice was cracked and hoarse. 

“The men looked in the direction he gazed, as one 
demented gazes at imaginary tormenters, and there 
was the yellow dog digging vigorously into the earth, 
nuzzling and coughing at the hole he made. 

“ ‘Hold him,' cried Croyden to Firth, and leaping 
forward he took up the dog's task while the animal 
whined at his elbow. He dug with his bare fingers, 
heedless of the cuts and hurts it inflicted; and barely 
a foot down he found the head of a hatchet with a stain 
upon the blunt end which was blood. 

“Holding it in his hand he advanced upon Klien. 
‘So he struck his head upon a stone,' he said, and held 
the metal out. 

“Klien raised his arms, bent at the elbow, and looked 
wildly up into the sky. ‘Oh, God!' he cried. ‘Oh — ’ 
and he buried his face in the crook of his arm while 
the yellow dog whined at his master's body." 


CHAPTER XII 


THE LAST LAUGH 

It was on the down trip. A few more days would 
bring the Explorers home again. Conversation at the 
fireside had turned back to the man who had chased a 
ghost. 

“He was a very peculiar man/' said Renfrew. “But 
a gentleman. Woodcott was undoubtedly an unusually 
fine gentleman.” 

“You mean he was polite?” piped Phil Mayo. 

“Yes. And honorable and brave.” 

“Is that what made the Indians like him so well?” 

“Yes ; and he was imperturbable. He gave no more 
evidence of what was going on in his mind than a 
totem pole would — if it had a mind. That was the 
quality, however, which made him impossible among 
white men. They mistook his unyielding calm for 
contempt. He had a cool stare which irritated men, 
as it irritated me when I first met him. That was on 
the Fort Walsh road ; I told you about it. He faced 
danger, too, with the same coolness, and the In- 
187 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


dians admire that sort of thing very deeply.” 

“Tell us a story about Woodcott.” Alan came up 
from the canoes where he had been at work with two 
of the smaller fry, and threw himself down beside the 
fire. 

“Did you stop old Silver Side’s leak?” asked Ren- 
frew. 

“Tight as a barrel !” Alan declared. 

Renfrew arose and examined Alan’s handiwork. 
“A good job,” he said. 

“And now may we have a story, please?” And as 
though in response to a ritual, the boys followed Alan 
with a babble of pleading. 

“About Woodcott!” they begged. 

As his custom was, Renfrew seemed to search in the 
flames. 

“Woodcott enlisted with the Mounted Police because 
his hog ranch at Battleford was a failure,” he ex- 
plained. “He was a gentleman of delicacy and refine- 
ment who was not blessed with a sense of humor, and 
it was unfortunate that he was sent to Pipe Lake. 
Pipe Lake is just over the Montana border in the 
McLeod District, and it is the refuge of the ofTscour- 
ing of the American frontier. 

“It is one of the glories of the British that wherever 
they make their way, they take their particular brand 
and hallmark of civilization and plant it with their 
roof-tree. Woodcott was unfortunate because civili- 
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zation to him meant chiefly the game of tennis. He 
was a tennis fiend. His hog ranch had failed because 
he had put in such an abundance of time grading a 
tennis court, and teaching his French-Canadian ranch 
hands how to play the game with him, that the hogs — 
tender animals — had died. The Metis had picked up 
the idea of the game very quickly, but had never 
learned to respect the boundaries of a court. Also they 
had decided that Woodcott was a little mad, and their 
attitude had interfered with his service. 

“When he arrived at Pipe Lake, he first investi- 
gated the nature of his duties, carefully covered his 
patrol, and then set to work grading a tennis court. 
When Pipe Lake observed this, all the case-hardened 
ruffians who happened to be loafing there at the time 
laughed uproariously; and in this they were shrewdly 
encouraged by Cacelotte. But the uproar was care- 
fully enclosed within locked doors, for no one in the 
town yet knew what manner of man Woodcott really 
was, and no one wanted to be the first to find it out. 

“Cacelotte was not a French Canadian, but some 
sort of mixed breed Irishman. He hailed from Helena, 
Montana, and had come to Canada because of a dis- 
agreement with a sheriff. The charge had not pur- 
sued him, and he had settled in Pipe Lake to live com- 
fortably from the forbidden sale of imitation whiskey 
to cowpunchers and Indians who were not supposed to 
drink it. This dishonorable occupation he had plied 
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RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


so wisely that he had outlived many a more reckless 
competitor, and had become an evil power in the com- 
munity. It was his business to promote the ridicule 
which followed Woodcott’s work upon the tennis court, 
and he was alert for every opportunity to do so. To 
the initiated, those who had lived for long upon the 
frontier and had seen many redcoats come and go, it 
developed into a sort of game between Woodcott and 
‘Cacelotte’s crowd/ 

“Cacelotte strolled out to the Police post, just be- 
yond the town and watched the Constable at work on 
the grading; and without any apparent reason several 
of his cronies followed him, so that they came and 
draped themselves over Woodcott’s fence while Cace- 
lotte spoke with him. 

“ Payin’ out some truck ?’ questioned the Irishman. 

'Woodcott looked up, but he seemed to gaze through 
Cacelotte rather than at him. 

" 'Hello, Cacelotte,’ he murmured politely ; and there 
was nothing for Cacelotte to do but ask his question 
over again. Woodcott gazed at him with aloof cour- 
tesy as he did so, and Cacelotte felt that he would have 
liked to wring the redcoat’s neck. But you can bet 
Woodcott never betrayed the fact that he suspected it. 

“ 'It’s a tennis court,’ he explained patiently, as 
though Cacelotte was exceedingly young, and could not 
be expected to understand. You know how mad that 
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THE LAST LAUGH 


sort of attitude makes you — it made Cacelotte feel just 
like that. 

“ ‘Huh V he scoffed. 4 A tennis court I It’s a tennis 
court, boys.’ 

“But to the amazement of those who had come to 
scoff, Woodcott quietly but positively turned his back 
upon them and serenely went on with his work as 
though they were not on earth. It was very discon- 
certing, and as a matter of fact a decided point in 
Woodcotfs favor, because, taken thus unexpectedly, 
Cacelotte’s expedition was a dismal failure. They had 
come to irritate the redcoat, instead they left with a 
decided sense of irritation themselves. 

“After that Pipe Lake watched more alertly than 
ever the development of the game, and Cacelotte’s free- 
dom was understood to be the stake. The whole town, 
knowing well enough what Cacelotte’s business was, 
knew, too, that Woodcott would spare no effort to 
gather the evidence which would send him to jail. But 
Cacelotte had carried on his wholesale liquor traffic 
under the eyes of several redcoats before Woodcott, 
and it remained to be seen whether the Constable was 
clever enough to succeed. Pipe Lake was especially in- 
terested because it appeared that Cacelotte was ‘mad,’ 
and it was conceivable that there might develop a physi- 
cal encounter between the two men. A fight in which 
Woodcott and the whiskey runner would meet face to 
face. Cacelotte boasted of being a bad man, but he 
191 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


owed the continued success of his business to his wis- 
dom in never having put this to the proof ; for there 
is an adage in the Canadian Northwest which is a very 
wise one: ‘You can't fight the Mounted Police and get 
away with it.' 

“A number of Cacelotte’s competitors had been bad 
men, too, but having tried to prove it to inquisitive red- 
coats, their trade had been uncovered, and they with- 
out exception had been sent to jail. Still, Cacelotte had 
a great contempt for Woodcott’s ways, and his tennis, 
in addition to which he was irritated; so Pipe Lake 
hoped for the best. 

“Meanwhile Woodcott walked the streets, and made 
his patrols without ever being put to the test. He was 
always imperturbable, always coolly courteous. He 
heartily annoyed every man with whom he came in con- 
tact by his cold reserve, made no friends and a great 
many enemies ; and even they who were inclined most 
leniently toward him, felt a mild curiosity to ‘see him 
taken down a peg.' His chief worry, which he con- 
cealed behind an impassive brow, was that he could 
find no partner for his tennis. The youthful manager 
of the Bank of Montreal played a poor hand occasion- 
ally, but for the most part Woodcott had to be content 
with marking the wall of the Police barn in two-foot 
squares and keeping his hand in by bouncing the ball 
against it. 

“Then Charlie Yung fell from grace. Charlie, who 
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THE LAST LAUGH 


was a middle-aged Chinaman, kept the Palace Cafe 
at the edge of the town, and his place was a great 
resort for ‘Cacelotte’s crowd/ Having a disagree- 
ment with one of these in the small hours of a certain 
summer’s morning, Charlie stuck his knife into the 
man, and at once fell from grace. ‘Cacelotte’s crowd’ 
did its best to keep the matter dark, but they made 
the initial mistake of accepting a ride for the wounded 
man in the buckboard of Kingsley, the bank manager, 
and the matter reached the ears of Woodcott. 

“Woodcott was entertaining that night. Constable 
Cunliffe, from Big Bend had been brought by the gen- 
tle hand of duty into the neighborhood of Pipe Lake, 
and he had dropped in to spend a day and wait for his 
mail. Woodcott early discovered that Cunliffe had 
played tennis for the varsity at McGill, and he had 
warmed toward him ; they had sat up all the night ex- 
changing the stories of their lives. So when Kingsley 
strolled out in the morning with his story of the brawl 
at Charlie Yung’s, he found the two redcoats going at 
their game hammer and tongs. They were completely 
happy, and the news which the bank manager brought 
obviously bored Woodcott extremely. 

“ ‘Is the Chinaman still there?’ he drawled, mildly 
looking through Kingsley’s third waistcoat button. 
Kingsley said he thought so, and Woodcott turned 
from his game with elevated brows. 

“ ‘Two all, and fifteen love,’ he said to the astonished 
193 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Cunliffe. ‘Remember the score, will you? I have to 
go and arrest a Chinaman.’ And he strolled off to 
change his clothes. 

“ ‘Queer specimen,’ said Cunliffe, looking after him. 
‘Think I’ll get into harness, too. You never know.’ 
And with an apology to the bank manager he was off. 

“Now Cunliffe knew his job pretty well, and that 
included -a knowledge of Chinamen. He knew that 
according to the ways of his people, Charlie Yung 
should now have been shaking the dust of Pipe Lake 
from his heels with all the speed at his command. Cun- 
liffe, who had heard some rumor of Woodcott’s lack 
of popularity at Pipe Lake, sensed contempt for the 
Force and possible resistance in Charlie’s staying. He 
hurried into his uniform, but in spite of his haste 
was amazed to see, while he still struggled with his 
boots, Woodcott immaculately uniformed mounted 
upon a charger, immaculately groomed and saddled, 
riding out of the gate for all the world as though he 
was off for a canter in Hyde Park. As soon as he 
passed through the gate, however, Woodcott drew up 
his curb, and made toward the town at a fine business- 
like gallop. Cunliffe left the window, and struggled 
with his clothes in bungling haste, while he pondered 
the strange behavior of the Chinaman. 

“The explanation was a simple one. 

“Cacelotte had hurried to Charlie Yung as soon as 
he had heard of the brawl ; and that was very soon. I 
194 


THE LAST LAUGH 


can’t tell you all that passed between them, but it after- 
ward developed that Charlie was not in a position to 
refuse the Irishman’s orders or desires; also, I sup- 
pose the whiskey runner assured him of his protection 
and support. Anyway, Cacelotte prevailed upon Yung 
to overcome his craven impulse to run away, and stay 
to resist the redcoat. So in that much Cunliffe was 
right. The plan was to offer resistance to the Force, 
and that is little short of revolution in the Northwest. 
Of course neither Cacelotte nor Yung knew of Cun- 
liffe’s arrival the night before. Cacelotte was con- 
vinced that the supercilious courtesy of the Constable 
was a cloak for yellow fear, and in this way he planned 
to prove it before all Pipe Lake. He spread the news 
about the town. 

" 'He’ll think Charlie won’t show fight !’ he gloated 
before his comrades. ‘He’ll ride in expectin’ a scairt 
Chink, and find a rip snorter! Have yer ever seen a 
Chink when he’s excited?’ — And he launched into a 
sea of profane reminiscences. 

"So when Woodcott rode into Pipe Lake that morn- 
ing, he found a fair-sized crowd gathered about the 
Palace Cafe waiting to see him make the arrest. 

"Woodcott drew up significantly enough outside the 
office of McKellar, the magistrate, and dismounting, 
bounded upstairs for his warrant. The expectant 
crowd saw him emerge from the office of the magis- 
trate and stride serenely down the street toward the 
195 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Palace Cafe. He faced them for a moment as he ap- 
proached the door; but it must have been only for a 
moment, for he never halted in his stride. 

“He must have appeared very trim, handsome, and 
youthful. He was well built in a more delicate, well- 
proportioned manner than the men of the North and 
his uniform fitted him with glovelike fidelity. He 
wore it like an actor or a prince, and he leaped the 
three steps to the cafe door with the grace of an ath- 
lete. Yet the faces of the crowd bore mingled anger, 
contempt, and dislike. Spectators, too, who might 
have been disposed to sympathize with him, were irri- 
tated by the glance with which he regarded them. It 
was the glance of the prince for the pauper. 

“Woodcott was a ruined gentleman who could not 
face his situation. 

“In the refined and gentle home in which he had 
been reared he had learned to judge a man by the 
courtesy of his bearing; by his consideration for the 
happiness of others ; by his education and accomplish- 
ments, and by the good taste with which he applied 
these gifts. A fine standard, but very easy to apply. 
Thrown among the rough men of the Northwest, 
Woodcott was too indolent, or perhaps too proud of 
his own standards to chip through the granite exterior 
of the men about him and find the virtues and the 
finer feelings hidden there. So he gazed on the crowd 
of them with his serene, self-confident stare and en- 
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THE LAST LAUGH 


tered Charlie’s cafe without betraying a doubt of his 
success. 

“There were one or two men in the restaurant when 
he entered, and Charlie was in the kitchen preparing 
food for them. Woodcott walked briskly down the 
double line of shabby tables and through the door into 
the kitchen. Charlie was flapping a flapjack as the red- 
coat entered and he swung into action immediately. 
With a shrill scream he flapped the pancake he was 
turning full into Woodcott’s face where, being only 
half-cooked, it clung uncomfortably. The Chinaman 
then seized a carving knife and leaped forward, squeal- 
ing. Woodcott, clutching at the pancake, dodged, drew 
his pistol and fired at the hand which held the knife. 
He missed the hand, but hit the knife blade, breaking 
it off short near the handle. Charlie slashed forward 
with what of his weapon was left and ripped the scar- 
let tunic from throat to belt; then without pause, he 
seized the hand with which Woodcott held his gun 
and buried his teeth in the wrist. The gun rattled to 
the floor and Woodcott clutched at the yellow throat 
with his left hand. 

“The sound of the shot brought Cacelotte’s crowd to 
the door of the kitchen, and the windows were ob- 
scured by the faces which pressed against them. For 
the most part, the spectators arrived in time to see the 
Chinaman suddenly release the redcoat’s wrist, and, 
darting to the stove, seize the basin of creamy flapjack 
197 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


dough. Woodcott whisked up his gun from the floor 
and fired ; but as he did so, basin and dough were in- 
verted on his head, and the bullet pierced the coffee 
urn. The hot liquid spurted forth, striking the China- 
man’s chest. He squealed and screamed while Wood- 
cott strove to wipe the thick and sticky mixture from 
his eyes. Then Charlie was upon him again ; this time 
with a dishrag. It was a slimy, sloppy dishrag, and 
slinging it about with an insane chattering, Charlie 
swiped it back and forth across the redcoat’s face. 
Then it caught the pistol, and gun and dishrag went 
hurtling across the room to plop into the boiling soup 
kettle. This gave Charlie a new idea. He laid violent 
hands on the soup kettle, but Woodcott seized his arms 
behind. The Chinaman would not let go, however, 
and they wrestled about absurdly, Charlie holding the 
kettle of soup before him and Woodcott pinioning his 
arms from behind. The soup spilled over, mixing with 
the pancake dough on the floor. They slid and slopped 
about in it until their absurd appearance was em- 
phasized by dish towels which draped over their heads 
and faces when they passed beneath the towel racks 
on the wall. Then Woodcott stepped upon a boiled 
onion, and abruptly sat down. Charlie came down 
with him, and the hot soup going high into the air 
descended upon them like a thick and highly flavored 
waterfall. With his tunic ripped, and his head smeared 
with a slimy mixture, Woodcott was now covered with 
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THE LAST LAUGH 


hot soup and had soft meat and vegetables in his hair. 
If he had time to think as he sat on the kitchen floor, 
it must have occurred to him that this was undignified. 
But he had little time; the action was very swift. 

“He sought to hold Charlie in his grasp, but the 
soup was slippery and it had rained on the just and un- 
just alike. So Charlie, after a few ineffectual claws 
at Woodcott’s face, was up and tearing about his 
kitchen again, hurling everything which came to his 
hands at the redcoat. He missed his shot with a 
cleaver, but was more successful with a tin of mustard 
which hit Woodcott on one ear and sprinkled him with 
yellow powder. The bombardment with apples was 
quite successful, but two could play at that game, and 
Woodcott was a straighter and more powerful shot. 
He placed one with great force in Charlie's right eye, 
and shrieking with rage the Chinaman came back with 
a T-bone steak which slapped Woodcott across the 
face. Beside the steak was a long, sharp knife, and 
having let the steak go, Charlie seized the knife. 
Woodcott closed in upon him and they struggled for 
possession of it. Woodcott turned Charlie’s arm be- 
hind him and started to twist while Charlie, in agony, 
clawed and beat him with his free hand. Above them 
as they struggled, was shelf upon shelf of catsup bot- 
tles, and the Chinaman’s groping hand closed on one 
of these. He struck viciously at Woodcott’s head with 
it, and on the third blow the bottle broke. The con- 
199 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


tents streamed over Woodcott’s head and face, but he 
kept on twisting. Bottle after bottle the Chinaman 
seized, and bottle after bottle was broken as the red- 
coat dodged them. Still Woodcott twisted until sud- 
denly the knife fell to the floor. 

“The Chinaman was brandishing another bottle, and 
would no doubt have struck home, but Woodcott did an 
amazing thing. The watchers at the windows who 
were literally suffering agonies of mirth at the spec- 
tacle of the fight, saw Woodcott suddenly turn from 
the furious Chinaman and run from the kitchen. He 
ran through the eating place with the Chinaman close 
on his heels, and never seemed to notice the men about 
him. Charlie let go with the bottle as Woodcott passed 
through the door, and then stood screaming and chat- 
tering with rage, hurling sugar bowls, oil and vinegar 
cruets, and even an inoffensive omelet after his enemy. 
At that moment Cunliffe, approaching the place, saw 
Woodcott’s flight; was astonished at the approach of 
his badly disheveled comrade. Woodcott was a shock- 
ing mess. 

“ "Arrest him, will you ?’ Woodcott gasped as he 
stopped for a moment in his flight. Tut that China- 
man under arrest. Do you mind?’ 

“And he was off to disappear almost immediately 
into the magistrate’s office. Cunliffe, disgusted and 
troubled, rushed to the Palace Cafe, dodged a sugar 
bowl and some commeal mush, shouted sternly an 
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THE LAST LAUGH 


order to the men who filled the room, and as they 
seized the Chinaman, snapped on his manacles. The 
arrest was made. 

“Cunliffe did not wait for Woodcott to show up 
again. He curtly commandeered the services of two 
burly loafers and gave over the Chinaman to their 
keeping. He rode at a walk beside them as they led 
the frightened prisoner back to the post. 

“ Meanwhile the story of that arrest flew about the 
town. Miraculously all Pipe Lake knew of Woodcott’s 
shame. His name was on the lips of every loafer ; and 
they spoke it with profane laughter, coarsely ridicul- 
ing the man who had run from a Chinaman. 

“ ‘Flew out of the door/ they gloated. ‘With Charlie 
throwing bottles after him. Lord, what a mess!’ 

“Cacelotte immediately made his way with pompous 
dignity to the magistrate's office, and found MacKellar 
at his desk. Woodcott was in the room also. The 
constable's tunic was torn and dark-stained with the 
water he had used to clean it. Otherwise he was as 
smart and as trimly impassive as ever. He held a 
folded paper in his hand. 

“Cacelotte ignored him contemptuously. 

“ ‘They’ve arrested Charlie Yung,' he said to the 
magistrate. 

“ ‘Aye,' said MacKellar. 

“Cacelotte wagged his head dolefully. 

“ ‘A bad blow for the Force,' he said, deeply re- 


201 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


gretful. They say the Policeman bungled the job 
badly. Charlie threw food all over him and he ran 
away. A visiting Constable, they tell me/ 

“ ‘Uh !’ grunted MacKellar slowly. 

“ ‘You oughta been there, Constable/ Cacelotte 
leered at Woodcott, who calmly looked through him. 

“ ‘What do you want in this place, Mr. Cacelotte ?’ 
asked MacKellar. 

“ ‘Why,* said Cacelotte, coming to the point. ‘The 
poor, misled Chinaman is a friend of mine. I’ll go 
bail for him, Mr. MacKellar. Will ye bear that in 
mind? I should be glad to go bail for him/ 

“Woodcott spoke up very clearly at that. 

“ Tm sorry, Cacelotte,’ he said, seeming to examine 
the files on the other side of the Irishman. ‘But you 
are hardly in a position to go bail for Charlie Yung. 
I have a warrant here for your arrest/ 

“Cacelotte glared at him. 

“ ‘Arrest !’ he roared. ‘Arrest ! Me ! Why, you 
white-livered puppy — ’ 

“ ‘Anything you say may be used against you,’ mur- 
mured Woodcott politely, and Cacelotte shut up 

“ ‘You ain’t got nothing on me,’ he rumbled. 

“ ‘Will you come peaceably ?’ asked Woodcott. 

“Cacelotte swore. This might be a bluff on Wood- 
cott’s part, or, still more precious thought, a bungling 
mistake — an arrest without evidence. If this was so, 


202 


THE LAST LAUGH 


he could break Woodcott; if he resisted, it was play- 
ing into the Policeman’s hands. 

“ ‘What’s the charge ?’ he asked, controlling the 
devil in him. 

“ ‘Selling whiskey in prohibited territory. Also 
under the Indian Act. Selling intoxicants to Indians.’ 

“Cacelotte grinned. 

“ Til go,’ he said. 

“So Woodcott and he walked out to the post to- 
gether, while men murmured and small boys jeered the 
redcoat as he passed. Woodcott’s expression did not 
alter. 

“So quietly had Woodcott contrived and executed 
his arrest of Cacelotte that the town knew nothing of 
it until rumor spread it abroad and then no one be- 
lieved it until the Irishman sent for Billy Cloudfoot, 
his Indian servant. 

“This was the day after the fight at the Palace Cafe. 
Woodcott and Cunliffe had been up all the night ques- 
tioning and cross-examining the Chinaman, and in the 
morning Woodcott himself came with irritating calm 
to bring Cacelotte his breakfast. Cacelotte, who was 
so angry that it positively hurt him, tried to shake the 
redcoat’s calm by teasing him with the happenings of 
the day before ; but Woodcott was imperturbable. He 
had a high standard of fair play, and it was like him 
to feel that the Irishman’s predicament entitled him to 
a certain latitude of protest. So he listened courteously 
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RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


while Cacelotte dwelt upon Charlie’s prowess. Wood- 
cott’s serenity stung Cacelotte like a lash. He became 
abusive and arrogant. He sneered at the redcoat’s 
demeanor, and became profane. He defied Woodcott 
or the Force or the Dominion Government to harm or 
to hold him. Woodcott coolly turned his back to leave 
the guardroom. 

“ ‘Charlie Yung has made a clean breast of it,’ he 
said as he closed the door, and Cacelotte shut up. He 
knew now that Woodcott was on firm ground ; danger- 
ous ground for him. Later he asked to see Billy Cloud- 
foot. He wanted clothes, he said, and to make some 
arrangements of his affairs. Cunliffe objected to that, 
but Woodcott commanded the post; it was his affair, 
and he was strong for fair play. So Billy came out 
and got his orders. 

“Now you wouldn’t think that after the affair at 
Charlie’s, Cunliffe would have had much in common 
with Woodcott, would you? Cunliffe had been pretty 
well disgusted at the showing Woodcott had made that 
day; but here they were only the day after the affair, 
hard at a game of tennis together. In the roadway 
outside the court and on the hill behind were little 
groups of citizens who gazed in astonishment at the 
scene, and were eager to see what turn the deeper game 
would take. 

“Here was Woodcott defeated and humiliated by a 
Chinaman, yet in some mysterious way the captor of 
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THE LAST LAUGH 


Cacelotte himself, who had surrendered without a fight. 
No one knew on what charge Cacelotte was held. They 
only knew he was the prisoner of this redcoat who 
played tennis in the face of his disgrace, and in the 
face of the most dangerous man on the border. The 
general opinion had it that Woodcott had arrested 
Cacelotte in anger and without evidence; but almost 
all knew what Charlie Yung could betray. 

“The two Constables played tennis excellently. It 
was a fast game and many of the spectators became 
deeply interested in the splendid grace of the players, 
and the sharp salvos of the racket blows. Cunliffe 
had played at McGill for the Varsity, but Woodcott 
had played for Brazenose at Oxford and had been run- 
ner up for a national championship. They both played 
a good game and held the attention of the spectators, 
so that Billy Cloudfoot came to the hillside behind the 
guard house unnoticed. The redskin took his position 
well up on the hillside and stood there, waiting with a 
blanket drawn tightly over his shoulders. He had not 
long to wait. 

“The tennis went merrily on. Woodcott had Cun- 
liffe jumping all over the court, strenuously on the de- 
fensive. Cunliffe missed the ball by a hair’s breadth, 
and Woodcott walked around the net. ‘My game,’ he 
said coolly. Cunliffe took the court nearest the house, 
so that in play his back would be against it. Picking 
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RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


up the balls he faced the house, and suddenly cried 
out : 

“ ‘Cacelotte’s out!’ he yelled, and Woodcott saw the 
prisoner, who had broken from the guard house, run- 
ning up the hill toward Billy Cloudfoot. 

“Cunliffe, as I have said, knew the border and the 
men of Cacelotte’s type. He knew that this was an 
affair for guns, and made a bee line for the house. 
Woodcott, however, made his bee line for Cacelotte. 
He neatly hurdled the tennis net, and armed with his 
racquet made swiftly up the hill. Some one shouted 
a warning to Cacelotte, and he glanced back, seeing his 
pursuer. Then he increased his speed and reached 
Billy’s side with Woodcott close upon his heels. The 
Indian threw back his blanket and Cacelotte, as though 
by magic, had a rifle in his hand. He turned in his 
tracks and fired. Woodcott, running at his best speed, 
could not stop, but struck the barrel of the rifle a blow 
with his racquet as he came rushing by the Irishman. 
Up went the gun as the cartridge exploded, and Wood- 
cott, sliding with the impetus of his run, as a ball player 
slides home, caught Cacelotte’s legs in his arms, and 
they were both down with a crash. But Cacelotte held 
the gun. Woodcott seized it as the furious man shoved 
the muzzle at him, and pushed the barrel up. Then 
with the two of them on their knees, all Pipe Lake 
gathered about to see the end of the game. The end 
they had hoped for. A test between these two men. 
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THE LAST LAUGH 


“Cacelotte, his face distorted with fury, was every 
inch the bad man; and Woodcott, closely facing him, 
only broke his accustomed serenity with a determined 
frown. Cacelotte, with a hand at the trigger and one 
on the barrel, struggled to bring down the muzzle of 
the gun. If he did he would blow Woodcott well 
nigh in two. Woodcott, with a hand at the muzzle and 
one near the stock despite his calm strove mightily to 
keep that muzzle up until Cunliffe should arrive. As 
they put forth all the strength in them, it seemed plain 
that Woodcott must lose. They rose gradually from 
their knees as Cacelotte exerted his superior upward 
force. They stood there taut and unmoving, sur- 
rounded by the silent crowd. Only the sweat on Wood- 
cott’s brow, the distortion of the Irishman’s face, be- 
trayed the terrific struggle. Then Billy Cloudfoot, go- 
ing mad, leaped on Woodcott from behind, clutching 
his throat; and Cunliffe coming up breathless at that 
moment tore him off, and struggled to pinion him. 
Woodcott, needing all his strength, was handicapped 
by that attack. Gradually, in spite of him, the muzzle 
came down in his hand, the stock of the rifle was mov- 
ing slowly up ! 

“Little by little; by fractions of an inch the specta- 
tors saw the stock come up. Down and down came 
the muzzle until it touched Woodcott’s shirt. It seemed 
that Cacelotte must fire. Why did not Woodcott move, 
dodge, take a new hold ? He did not ; but more amaz- 
207 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


ing still, he smiled! Straining every muscle, every 
fiber of his body, he resisted Cacelotte’s effort to move 
that muzzle down the last necessary fraction of an inch ; 
and while he did it, he smiled! The muscles bunched 
on Cacelotte’s throat and shoulders. This would be 
the final effort. Cunliffe would be upon him in a 
second. With all his great strength he pulled up on 
the stock of the rifle, and Woodcott smiling, suddenly 
let go. There was a mighty crack as the stock flew 
up and met Cacelotte’s jaw. The big man staggered 
back, his jaw bone splintered, and Woodcott took the 
rifles from his hands as though from the hands of an 
infant. 

“Cunliffe, leaving Billy, outstretched upon the ground 
counting stars, snapped a pair of manacles on the dazed 
ruffian, and the game was over. Woodcott had won. 
His prize was respect, and admiration and fear, where 
contempt, dislike and opposition had been. Pipe Lake 
began to brag of its new Constable. 

“They brought Cacelotte, Charlie and the ardent 
Billy Cloudfoot up for trial and they were all packed 
off to prison. It developed during the trial that Cace- 
lotte had become desperate when he found out that 
Charlie Yung had confessed to the redcoats. But 
Charlie couldn’t help it. Cacelotte should not have 
counseled him to resist the Force. In resisting Wood- 
cott he had struck him with the catsup bottles, and those 
bottles, painted red to resemble catsup, contained whis- 
208 


THE LAST LAUGH 


key. It was in this manner Cacelotte distributed his 
wares; and Woodcott, seeing that, had made his way 
directly to MacKellar for his warrant. Charlie was 
not important then ; Cacelotte had to be taken before he 
left town. 

“But we are getting from our story. My story is of 
Woodcott. This was his first adventure in popularity. 
Before his long battle with Cacelotte he had never con- 
sidered his fellowmen except as they were worth know- 
ing or not worth knowing. After he had looked at 
death in Cacelotte’s distorted face, and gathered the 
fruits of his victory in the admiration of his fellows, 
he learned to go farther afield in search of friendship ; 
and he found it in most unexpected places. His re- 
serve clung to him, however, and he has always been 
most useful among Indians for that reason. It is 
peculiar that the refinement and pride which made him 
so slow to make friends should have found its match 
in the pride of the redman who will befriend no man 
who has not proved himself a man. 

“Woodcott owes a great deal to Cacelotte in a 
way.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


mad! 

They sat in the shelter of a lean-to on the river bank 
and listened to the rain. The rain makes a peculiar, 
enchanting noise in the woods at night. Snug and dry, 
about a comfortable fire, it is pleasant to listen to it 
rattling upon the leaves, hissing on the surface of the 
water, and spattering upon the soft woodland ground. 
So they did, and when the story came, it seemed as 
though these were the best conditions in all the world 
for the presence of a man like Renfrew. 

“It was a queer idea Greenmason had,” said Ren- 
frew. “And as it developed he was not equal to it. 
It is an interesting reflection that if Stedman at Ver- 
milion could only have known it, the greatest adventure 
of his life really started when Greenmason, against the 
advice of every trapper and woodsman at the post, 
started north from Fort St. John, nearly a thousand 
miles away. 

“Greenmason was a doctor, and he had some in- 
fluenza pills of his own invention which he felt would 


210 


MAD! 


be an inestimable boon to the Indians and trappers of 
the North. I suppose he was lured by the adventure, 
too. Anyway, he set out from Fort St. John in Sep- 
tember with an inadequate outfit to sell his ridiculous 
pills throughout the wilderness. He explained to every 
one who endeavored to dissuade him that travel in the 
North wasn’t as hard as they thought it was, and felt 
that his judgment was proved correct when he arrived 
safely at Fort Nelson with nearly half of his pills sold 
to Indians and half-breeds who liked the taste of the 
sugar coating on them. 

“At Fort Nelson though, he seemed to feel some hint 
of what faced him in the rigors of an Arctic winter. 
Anyway, with the first freezing of the water he scut- 
tled away for the South and tried to make Peace River 
Landing across country. He traveled with an ex- 
tremely illiterate half-breed whose name was Olivier, 
and the first snows overtook them near the head waters 
of the Mackenzie just over the Alberta line. From 
what Olivier had to say afterward it appeared that 
Greenmason entirely lost his head at this event. The 
ominous hint of the relentless forces which were to 
follow this first flurry of snow frightened the tender- 
foot badly. He gave up all attempt to journey further 
south and sought frantically for shelter. He found it 
in a group of three deserted cabins on the Boyer River. 
They were the wretched shelters of some unknown 


2 II 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


trappers who had passed on, for heaven knows what 
reason, to heaven knows where. 

“Against the loud but unintelligible protest of Oliv- 
ier, who was superstitious and feared everything he 
did not understand, which was much, but who was 
nevertheless alive to the terrible urgency of beating 
south, Greenmason decided to occupy one of these 
cabins ‘until the snows passed by,’ he said. And they 
did, laying in a vast store of wood and provisions, 
wasting time they should have spent in traveling south, 
until the winter, gray and terrible came down and im- 
prisoned them. 

“The cabin which Greenmason chose to make his 
winter quarters was square and squat. Greenmason 
was not an excessively tall man, yet his head scraped 
the rude rafters which supported the roof. Olivier 
battered his head upon them in a manner which would 
have seriously injured any less sturdy cranium, until 
he learned to walk with a furtive stoop. The cabin 
windows were merely chinks in the wall, and to de- 
feat the winter weather they covered these with skins. 
Later the snow packed up about the windows and they 
became useless, as did the doorway. So the cabin 
became pitch black, lit only by the insignificant glow 
of the fire which they kept burning incessantly in the 
fireplace at one end of the hut. Had it not been for 
the call which this made upon them for wood, it is 
quite probable that the two men would have died for 


212 


MAD! 


lack of air. As it was they had periodically to dig 
their way out from the fetid atmosphere of the hut for 
brief fuel-gathering sallies into the woods. As time 
went on this duty was left entirely to Olivier. For 
Greenmason could not stand the intolerable life of the 
cabin. He sickened. 

“They sat in the darkness and smoke of that hor- 
rible interior half buried in snow without any varia- 
tion from a diet of frozen dried meat, cornmeal and 
bacon. They could not talk with one another, neither 
understanding the other’s language. They had no 
cards nor even a book to read. They could only sit, 
or lie, or pace up and down in the foul air and dark- 
ness, and listen to the dismal noises of the wolves and 
foxes all about them. So Greenmason sickened and 
went mad — he lost his mind 

“As far as Olivier was concerned, that was enough. 
For him the adventure was over. He had found little 
to complain of in the life of the cabin. It had not been 
so very different from his own home in the winter- 
time. But when Greenmason mouthed and mumbled 
to himself as he paced the frozen floor, and turned 
upon him with a strange glare in his eyes and raved 
of spring in England, Olivier decided it was time to 
leave. He packed his things and set out for Vermilion, 
terrified. And that is how Stedman came into the 
story. 

“Stedman was stationed at Vermilion with Sergeant 
213 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Meadows when this happened. He was a big man and 
impressed me more with his sheer strength than any 
other man I have ever met. This I think was due to 
the manner of his build, which was unusual. He had 
the compact, chunky body of the exceedingly strong, 
short man; but he was over six foot four in length. 
He gave an impression of tremendous strength, and 
in his work he had reason to prove his possession of 
it often. 

“He combined with his physical power a rare mod- 
esty and good nature. His calm acceptance of the 
strength he had was extraordinary. He was a matter- 
of-fact man, and to him his strength was matter-of- 
fact. His clean shaven, rather square face, beamed 
with humor if one remarked upon his powers. It 
amused him. Occasionally his naive modesty furnished 
rare amusement. 

“When, soon after he had joined the Force, he was 
on duty along the Boundary Line, he had written a 
notable report. 

“ ‘On the 17th inst., I, Constable Stedman, was called 
to the hotel to quiet a disturbance,' he had written. T 
found the room full of cowboys, and a man named 
Tieman or ‘Cowboy Jack' was carrying a gun, and 
pointed it at me against sections 105 and 109 of the 
Criminal Code. We struggled. Finally I got him 
handcuffed behind and put him inside. His head be- 
ing in bad shape I had to engage the services of a 
214 


MAD! 


doctor. All of which I have the honor to report/ And 
another hand had added to the report a list of things 
damaged, which included a broken door, a smashed 
screen, a broken chair, a field jacket worn by Sted- 
man spoiled by being covered with blood, walls spat- 
tered with blood, and, I believe, a china cabinet shat- 
tered. 

“ ‘We struggled,’ Stedman had written. ‘And finally 
I got him handcuffed.’ Can you imagine what hap- 
pened between ‘we struggled’ and ‘finally?’ 

“That is the sort of man Stedman was. 

“He had become a great power in the upper Atha- 
basca district, after four years of remarkable work 
with Sergeant Meadows who was a remarkable officer, 
when Olivier came into Vermilion with news of Green- 
mason’s madness. Meadows had just returned from 
a long patrol and he heard Olivier with a great deal 
of concern. For this was early December and winter 
was sweeping through the North. It comes with the 
turbulence and frightfulness of an invading army. 
Before its coming the country is fair and travel through 
it is a pleasant and fine adventure. After it has passed 
the country is a barren waste and travel is rigorous 
and full of dangers. But the most terrible dangers 
beset the man who traverses the country while it is 
sweeping on its way. 

“Meadows knew that only one man — Stedman — 
could go on this journey, for he himself had to keep 
215 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


the post. The police dogs were used by the patrol 
from which they had just returned and were not to be 
depended upon. So Stedman must venture forth with 
a hired team to rescue Greenmason and carry the mad- 
man down to Fort Saskatchewan, six hundred miles 
away. It is no wonder that Sergeant Meadows was 
concerned. But the thing had to be done; and so it 
was. 

“Stedman set forth with a hired team of dogs which 
was precariously light and slim of numbers; and he 
took Olivier with him as guide. He could do no bet- 
ter, for speed was their best ally and no one could 
guide him as quickly as Olivier to the shelter where 
Greenmason lay. But Stedman later paid heavily for 
his choice of a traveling companion. 

“They found Greenmason crouching in a corner of 
the hut tearing at a chunk of frozen meat as an animal 
tears at its food. He fought them when they entered 
the horrible shelter, and Stedman obtained a glimpse of 
what his journey was to be as he struggled to encase 
the maniac in a sleeping bag and warm robes, and then 
to lash him on the sleigh. Olivier gave little assist- 
ance. He shrank from Greenmason as a young child 
shrinks from the shadow which the candle flings, and 
there was the same look of wild wonderment in his 
eyes. 

“If you look at your maps you will see an elbow 
in the Peace River where it turns from a straight 
216 


MAD! 


course northward to make its way east to Lake Atha- 
basca. From a point a little north of this elbow Sted- 
man set out with his maniac to make southeast by east, 
aiming for the Rat which he would follow to the Wab- 
iskaw, and thence take to that great highway of ice, 
southbound. 

“The first day out was a grim introduction to a 
grim journey. As Stedman would have remarked, 
‘We struggled/ Only this time it was not with a 
man. They followed Long Creek nine miles down to 
the Boyer River, and slush lay on the ice. The slush 
froze to their snowshoes and when the weight of it be- 
came unendurable, they stopped to thaw them out. It 
froze on the dog’s feet, too, and when the lumps of ice 
between their toes hurt them the animals rolled over, 
holding their paws up straightlegged for relief. And 
the painful journey stopped while the men picked the 
ice out with their teeth. The sled was heavy with the 
weight of its passenger added to the duffle and pro- 
visions — 

“They made only the nine miles of creek that day, 
and when they reached the Boyer River and made 
their camp, Stedman thought soberly of the journey 
he had undertaken. Yet that night a thing occurred 
which made his burden the heavier. 

“He had arranged watches for the night with Oliv- 
ier, and during the half-breed’s watch, he was asleep. 
A pounding upon his chest awakened him, and he found 
217 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


Olivier crouching at his side. In his left hand the 
half-breed held a flaming brand, and he stared into 
the night with wild terror in his eyes, the while he 
thumped Stedman with his right. Stedman drew him- 
self from his sleeping bag, and followed Olivier’s 
frightened gaze. Something near by was moving and 
writhing in the darkness, dim lit by the smouldering 
fire. Some thought of wolves occurred to Stedman; 
but as his eyes became accustomed to the dark, he 
saw Greenmason writhing on the ground beside the 
sled, writhing and twisting to free himself from his 
bonds. And Olivier crouched brandishing his torch, 
afraid of demons. 

“Greenmason’s face, distorted with the fury of mad- 
ness, was horrible as the dim firelight caught his red- 
dened eyes and the foam on his lips. He fought his 
bonds with his whole body and with his teeth, whipping 
himself about like a man in convulsions. Stedman had 
to use rough methods to put him to bed again, and 
after that he himself kept watch. Remembering Oliv- 
ier’s fear, he knew that he must see this business 
through alone. And they were only on the threshold 
of it. 

'‘There followed several days of travel which was 
made comparatively easy by mild weather and a well- 
packed trail. But following his outburst of the night 
which showed up Olivier’s fear, the madman refused 
to eat, and every meal time was the scene of a horrible 
218 


MAD! 


encounter between Stedman and his charge. He had 
to force the food down Greenmason’ s throat — And at 
night he dared not sleep more than what furtive naps 
were forced upon him by fatigue. 

“Then came the blizzard. They had won their way 
to the Wabiskaw when the heavy snowfall overtook 
them. They traveled all morning through it, and 
pushed on till it blinded them and only the heavy tim- 
ber on the banks of the river marked the trail for 
them. The wind changed as they groped their way 
forward in this manner, and you should hear Stedman 
tell of how the blizzard came. T felt it,’ he says sim- 
ply. He felt it in the air, and they made for the timber. 
He felt it so soon before it hit them that they had time 
to prepare a meal and while they ate it the dogs, whim- 
pering, entrenched themselves wisely in the snow. 

“It came down upon them with a terrific noise; a 
wild howling of the gale down the river, a shrieking 
of wind in the woods, and the crash of great trees 
snapped off like matchsticks in the hurricane. Stedman 
threw the sled barrierwise against a widespread fir tree, 
and with a mighty gesture he dragged Greenmason. 
with him behind this shelter. Buttressed by low-hang 
ing branches the sled took the blast of the gale and 
held, but Stedman, braced against the trunk of the tree, 
had to exert all his strength to prevent Greenmason 
being tumbled away over the snow like a bundle of 
clothes in the great wind. Still braced against the 
219 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


tree, and clutching the madman’s clothes wherever he 
could find a hold, he managed to lash the man to the 
tree, and this done he lashed himself as well. 

“All night they lay there buffeted by a gale which 
at forty below zero swept westward with a speed of 
eighty miles an hour. Its very fury built them a bar- 
rier later of snow piled high against the sled, and in 
the shelter of this Stedman put his maniac to bed as 
a strong nurse does a fretful child. It was a labor 
for Hercules. For Stedman* it was routine. Then 
Greenmason and he, lashed to the tree in their sleeping 
bags, sought sleep, which never came. 

“That blizzard lasted two days and two nights with- 
out abating in its fury, and all that time the two lived 
crouching together in their scanty shelter, one man 
with the firm resolution of perfect strength, and the 
other with the light of madness in his eyes, seeing inde- 
scribable things in the flying snow. 

“When Stedman dug their way out, he found Oliv- 
ier, who had fended for himself, sullenly lighting a 
fire. From the sounds he made Stedman gathered that 
he believed the demon which Greenmason entertained 
lad brought the blizzard and had brought fear and 
destruction to the half-breed’s simple mind as well. 
Stedman knew that if Olivier dared he would leave for 
the nearest settlement alone. But Stedman was a 
sturdy rock to cling to in weather which demons had 
invoked. 


220 


MAD! 


“The thing which Stedman remembers most in the 
days which followed was the great depths of the snow- 
drifts in the river, and the storms of wind which swept 
the cutting snow into their faces and made a swirling 
mist of it through which they pushed interminably, 
stopping only for their terrible routine — mealtimes 
when Greenmason must be forced to eat; camps at 
eveningtide when Greenmason must be released for a 
little so that he might keep the blood running through 
his body, and when he must be keenly watched against 
escape while Olivier shrank back from his mad gaze; 
and nights which for Stedman had only a torturing 
pretense of sleep, in brief and troubled ways. 

“One day Greenmason escaped. There came a time 
when food could no longer be forced down his throat 
and there were several sickening encounters at meal- 
times on the trail; attempts to nourish him which re- 
sulted in revolting failures. After one of these oc- 
casions Stedman set the man free and his bonds loos- 
ened, he fell upon the dried meat before him like an 
animal. After that Stedman freed him at mealtimes 
until a day came when, camp made, Stedman was gath- 
ering fuel in the woods, and Greenmason took advan- 
tage of his absence to fight out a fanciful grudge which 
he bore one of the dogs. Knowing what an injured 
dog might mean, Olivier interfered and was promptly 
set upon. Stedman, his arms full of wood, was well 
nigh run down by the frantic half-breed as he stumbled 
221 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


shrieking, through the snow with Greenmason bran- 
dishing a club behind him. Brought suddenly face to 
face with Stedman, the maniac halted, burst into a howl 
of terrible laughter, and hurling the club at Stedman 
turned in full flight for the river. Stedman dropped 
his burden and followed him. Despite his fasting and 
long confinement, Greenmason made surprising head- 
way through the drifted snow and Stedman, the heavier 
man, saw himself outdistanced as he wallowed pain- 
fully behind him. There followed a struggle. Green- 
mason fought desperately for his freedom and Sted- 
man was forced to choke his senses from him. Then 
he carried him back; after the great exertion of the 
chase, and the danger of the desperate encounter in 
the yielding snow. He stumbled back with him. T 
am a pretty strong man/ Stedman said when he told 
me of it. ‘But in the wind and the numbing cold it 
was really a difficult job to carry him that half-mile 
back to camp/ 

“And the maniac froze a foot. Afterward the care 
of that frozen foot was added to the dreadful routine 
of the journey, and the pain of it was the source of 
indescribable ravings in the night. — This story is 
stretching into a very long one. Are you tired? — 
Very well, then — 

“As they came into the wooded lands to the south, 
game became quite plentiful, and it was a tremendous 
relief to vary the torturing monotony of the trail with 


222 


MAD! 


an occasional hunt. Though it is an interesting reflec- 
tion that many experienced woodsmen would have 
found a journey into that country in that season 
merely for the hunting, an adventure which would have 
tried their utmost strength, Stedman found it a pas- 
time. The fresh meat helped, too, but with the game 
came wolves. The lean timber wolf in wintertime dis- 
criminates very little in its choice of food, whether it 
be animal or man. Fear of the beast brought Olivier, 
furtive and sullen, more closely into camp with the 
madman ; and with Stedman, he sat up through the 
long nights keeping the watch fires bright while the 
wolf pack howled in the woods about them. Those 
were weird watches for the silent, sleepless redcoat, 
but he will tell you nothing of what he thought as he 
sat in his sorely tried strength of mind and body by 
the red fires in the night. He might have wondered 
what the end was going to be. It was a precarious 
business, but I don’t believe that doubt ever entered 
his mind. 

“They now entered a country of open prairie land, 
spotted with clumps of sparse woodland and they 
wound their way through a network of creeks and little 
rivers toward the Athabasca. At Old House they 
picked up a guide, for Stedman now planned a drive 
straight south over a country which had no trails. He 
was eager to see the end of the journey. This addi- 
tion to their party made their labors lighter. They 
223 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


made good time and came into Lac la Biche on the last 
day of the year. 

“Stedman arranged for horses at Lac la Biche. 
From this point he could drive with his maniac over 
the prairie roads to Fort Saskatchewan. He felt that 
his journey was well nigh done; that at Lac la Biche 
he could rest. But that night Olivier revealed himself. 

“Stedman slept in the same room as his maniac, en- 
joying what Spartan hospitality the settlement had to 
offer. He slept profoundly, despite the groaning and 
mouthing of his room-mate, who, strapped to his bed, 
made a poor business of giving words to his delirium 
since his tongue was frozen in his mouth. Olivier 
came up to take his turn at watchman in that uncanny 
sick room at about twelve o’clock in the night. I re- 
member that midnight was the hour Stedman had ar- 
ranged for a change of watch. 

“I can’t pretend to explain what moved in the half- 
breed’s mind as he sat there. He knew that, unknown 
to the authorities, the half-breed settlement across the 
bay of the lake was celebrating the New Year that 
night with forbidden liquors; and perhaps it was the 
childish desire of a weak mind to join in the festivi- 
ties which impelled him to commit his crime. For my 
part, I cannot help but think he had come to his watch 
with the best of intentions to keep it faithfully, but 
that Greenmason, the madman, twisting in his bonds, 
rattling with his frozen tongue, must have worked 
224 


MAD! 


upon his mind. Else why did he wait to come on 
watch at all ? 

“Let me give you a word of how the madman looked 
at that time. I have it from Stedman who describes 
him as he put him to bed that night. Greenmason was 
a slight man of merely average height, and his lean 
face was scantily adorned with an exceedingly thin 
gray beard. His gray hair was very thin as well. His 
terrible adventure had withered the flesh upon his face 
s© that it appeared as though the ashen skin was 
stretched over a naked skull, and the eyes burned un- 
cannily in great hollows under his brows. The thin 
gray hair which covered his face suggested horribly 
the hair on something dead. Altogether this round 
head twisting and rolling upon the scrawny neck re- 
sembled the grotesque masks which are shown in mu- 
seums or upon poles outside the palisades of the head 
hunters. It was terrible to see the mask mouth and 
mumble and cry out. To catch a glimpse of the eternal 
suffering in the wild eyes was disquieting to a simple 
mind. 

“Olivier sat his watch about a half hour, then he 
searched through Stedman’ s clothes, took all the money 
he could find in them, and left for the settlement across 
the bay of the lake where music and red whiskey were. 
Greenmason worked his way free after Olivier had 
gone and Stedman was awakened rudely with the mad- 
man’s claws at his throat. He struggled ; and put his 
225 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


maniac to bed again. Then his pent nerves burst in 
a tremendous rage. He awakened the house and a 
large part of the settlement. All the half-breeds and 
Indians and an occasional white man, too, trembled 
at his great anger. And it raged until some miserable 
metis informed him of the celebration across the lake. 
Then the big redcoat laid a heavy hand upon Albret 
Sansebear who was his host. 

“Watch Greenmason,” he roared. “Keep a close 
watch on him till I return, or by the Saint Mary you’ll 
go to Regina with me in the morning !’ Then he took 
to his snowshoes and was off upon the heels of Olivier, 
the thief. 

“The music and the drink were both full blast when 
Stedman threw open the door of the meeting house at 
Black Portage, which was the settlement across the 
bay of the lake. He made directly over to Olivier 
and seized him by the shoulder with the same anger in 
his face which had dismayed the people at Lac la 
Biche. But Olivier had a new courage. He had found 
it in a bottle and he was misled by it. He resisted 
Stedman, striking out with his long arms and cursing 
wildly in the patois. Stedman did not know what the 
curses were, but he understood what they meant, and 
Olivier’s blows were unmistakable. Also the half- 
breed twisted in his grip like a frantic fox in a trap. 
He twisted and squirmed and fought in the redcoat’s 
grip; and there were the blows. So Stedman struck 
226 


MAD! 


him. It was an intelligent blow, and a heavy one. 
Olivier relaxed. He became unconscious and Sted- 
man threw him over one shoulder and made for the 
door. But the excited circle about him would not 
have it. 

“Stedman plunged forward but his opponents were 
full of the courage which had so tricked Olivier. It 
is of no use to argue with semi-savages when they are 
drunk. To fight them would mean to become a target 
for a hundred knives and then hanging would follow. 
Stedman dropped Olivier, and strode through the clat- 
tering crowd to the door. He recrossed the lake; 
twelve weary miles in the bitter blackness of the morn- 
ing, and went to sleep again. 

“At eleven the next day he found it terribly hard to 
turn out. He was tired in a way which you fellows 
perhaps will never know. His brain, his body, his 
every nerve was tired — tired. — Of all the things Sted- 
man ever did, rising that morning was perhaps one of 
the bravest of them. Death itself seemed preferable 
to turning out in the numbing cold and dressing for 
the arduous duty he had to perform. But he did it. 

“He dragged himself out, and suffered extraordi- 
nary agony as he dressed himself. He nearly fell 
asleep several times as he did so. His body cried out 
for it; his brain was like a man who is caught in a 
quicksand. But he overcame his weariness without 
losing it and made his way across the lake once more 
227 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


in the teeth of a cruel wind, and arrested Olivier, and 
the ringleader of the Metis who had resisted him. 
Sober and scared, they were easily subdued. He 
brought them back with him, and with his maniac he 
loaded them on the wagon — 

“I won’t dwell on the incidents of the journey to the 
Fort. The jolts of the wagon, and the treacherous 
nature of his captive forbade any sleep for Stedman 
although wakefulness was torture now. And often all 
had to turn out and help free the wagon from the 
snow. It lasted three days. 

“When the party arrived at Fort Saskatchewan, 
Greenmason was turned over to the hospital authori- 
ties, a raving, living corpse, and Stedman took his 
prisoners to the jail. Seven months after that Green- 
mason was pronounced cured, and freed minus a few 
toes, for which he had to thank his frostbite. It is an 
evidence of his restored sanity that he later went to 
sell his pills in South America where they were suc- 
cessful as a cure for malaria. 

“But for Stedman the end of the adventure had not 
yet come. After he had placed his prisoners in jail 
there was a long report to write. Then, for sixteen 
hours he slept. It seems that on one of the occasions 
during his trip when he had ‘struggled’ several of his 
teeth had been injured, and after his sleep he visited 
the dentist who tortured him further. Then, all alone, 
he set out for Vermilion again, and at Smoky Lake, 
228 


MAD! 


the end of his adventure overtook him. The strain of 
brain and body had been too great. The splendor of 
his power had been overtaxed. He went mad, and at 
his lone camp fire was found singing plaintively the 
songs of his native Devonshire. 

“They took him back to Fort Saskatchewan and 
placed him at Brandon where Greenmasion was — so in 
the end they came together in a sad, strange way — 
“Stedman went back to England after he was re- 
leased, but he could not stay there. He returned to 
America and enlisted again in the Force. He serves 
a routine duty in the southern district now, and he 
wonders why he cannot go into the North again — 
back to Vermilion. You have only to look into his 
eyes and listen to his speech to know why. His expe- 
rience left its mark upon him.” 

They sat listening to the rain — 

“There are things in the spirit of a man which are 
not close to the earth,” Renfrew said. “Things which 
the world can’t give or take away. The spirit which 
carried Stedman through that journey was an evi- 
dence of it.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


NEAR TO THE END 

When the cloudburst came, it found the Explorers 
pressing along a dirt road, making all the haste which 
mud and rain and the darkness would permit to reach 
the shelter of civilization. 

Since the first rising of the Marapo in the heavy 
rain which ‘had fallen for two days, Renfrew had 
foreseen this occasion and had planned for it. The 
Explorers had pushed down the river in a growing 
rush of water and the night before the cloudburst 
had reached the ford. Here they had cached their 
canoes bottom side up high on the river bank, for Ren- 
frew knew that soon the Marapo was to be a raging 
torrent, rising every minute and carrying derelict logs 
and whole trees in its boiling current; then they had 
thrown up a lean-to and snatched what sleep they could. 
At dawn Renfrew had them up for a hurried break- 
fast which he had arranged the preceding evening, 
and with their packs on their backs, the Explorers 
splashed and slithered through the mud, to follow the 
230 


NEAR TO THE END 


dirt road from the ford six miles through the woods 
to the state road which followed the Hamilton River 
to Walney. 

As they scrambled along holding close to Renfrew, 
who under a burden of many packs set a merry pace, 
the black clouds gathered above and seemed to bear 
down upon them. And the light of the rising sun was 
defeated by the storm so that only a murky gloaming 
lit the morning. They trudged on, long since careless 
of mudholes and the water which ran in little rivers on 
the road, and felt that this must last forever. The 
state road, it seemed, would never come ; and the dark 
menace of the sky was close upon their heads. 

Then the clouds burst. 

The rain which had been drizzling upon them for 
two days suddenly became pelting, punishing water. 
Each boy saw his companions become obscured by a 
curtain of teeming rain. It struck them like a cold 
shower, beating heavily down. It soaked them im- 
mediately and so thoroughly that they felt naked and 
weighted with the water. It blinded them and filled 
their nostrils, poured into their gasping mouths. The 
sound of rushing waters filled their ears. They saw 
the trees bent down with it, and miraculously the banks 
of the road melted into fluid and slid downward into 
the road. Suddenly the water was ankle deep in the 
roadway, and the ground under their feet was moving 
231 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 

as the banks of the road had moved, melting beneath 
them. 

Renfrew shouted so that they could hear him above 
the tumult, and a line was passed among them. Then 
he led them, slowly, and stumbling and gasping in the 
deluge up the crumbling banks, while they slipped and 
wallowed in the liquid mud. Up to a wooded knoll 
they made their way with a great effort, and precari- 
ously, till they felt that the ground although slippery 
was firm under their feet. And they gathered under 
a broad maple tree to regain their breath. 

There they waited for the deluge to spend its fury 
while they watched rivulets form about them. Trick- 
ling water which became rivulets; rivulets which be- 
came miniature torrents; torrents which washed out 
gullies, cataracts and channels, and rushed to join the 
river in the roadway. All around them they could see 
in miniature the process whereby oceans are made, and 
some could even feel a youthful ocean growing deep 
about their feet. 

When the pelting of the rain was subdued, and the 
friendly drizzle of the earlier morning returned to 
take its place, the boys came down from the hill to the 
edge of the road and opened their eyes wide at the 
damage which had been wrought. The bank of the 
road had really disappeared and they stood upon the 
sharp edge of a washout. Where the road had been 
were twin streams of muddy water separated by a 
232 


NEAR TO THE END 


ing velocity as the slope of the road increased, 
ridge of red mud and these swept noisily along, gain- 

The roadway was impassable, but the black clouds 
had wasted their substance and had given place to a 
gray heaven which glowed brazenly in the east and 
permitted a pale light to fall on a saturated world. 
So, climbing the hill, the Explorers gathered beneath 
the maple tree again with a certain satisfaction that 
they were playing a heroic part; pioneering and ex- 
ploring amid unusual hardships, and discussing a map 
with Renfrew under a dripping tree, as field marshals 
without number, had, no doubt, done before them. 
Renfrew laid out a compass course now, and having 
explained to the boys the importance of approximating 
it in their journey, and how this must be done by the 
almost indiscernible shadow cast by the sun, he led 
them forth, cutting through wet woodland trails which 
sloped always downward. They were leaving the 
mountains and approaching the valley of the Hamil- 
ton. 

Thus, in the mid-afternoon, they stood on a hilltop 
in the unabating rain, and with their backs to the hills 
gazed upon the swift, swollen waters of the Hamilton 
River with the gray state road beside it. More wel- 
come than the muddy waters, which moved in so stately 
a manner, however, was the house which lay in the 
hollow directly beneath them, for they were wet and 
chilled; had been whipped by wet underbrush along 
233 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


miles of slippery and uneven forest trails; and they 
were tired and hungry and cold. They wanted to ex- 
plore no more. They were weary of being woodsmen 
and pioneers and field marshals. They wanted warmth 
now, and food; and they longed to be dry. 

They looked down upon the little house which stood 
impudently upon an eminence overlooking the road 
and the river beyond it. They wondered what their 
reception would be, and swept down the hill like an 
avenging horde while they wondered. They passed 
the big barn behind the house, and the melancholy 
hound which cringed at its door in full cry, and bore 
down upon the kitchen door furiously. The door 
opened before they reached it and a tall cowboy who 
seemed to have stepped out from a Remington print 
stood on the little porch and peered at them. 

“Glory be!” said the cowboy as the boys drew up, 
wondering. “Looks like it’s gonna rain boys an" nig- 
ger babies for a spell.” 

Renfrew came up from the rear. 

“Hello, Dakota !” he cried. “Got lots of fire to dry 
these youngsters out with?” Then he turned to the 
boys. “Fellows, meet my friend Dakota Dan! He’s 
one of our most prominent horsemen. Dan, these are 
the Explorers.” 

“Right glad to know yer, boys,” declared Dakota 
Dan. “Come in, come in. You all certainly is a lot 
wet.” 


234 


NEAR TO THE END 


And in another ten minutes the Explorers clad in 
the costume of their nativity were gathered about a 
stove with a red-hot base, and scrubbing their chilled 
bodies with Dakota’s stiff towels until they fairly 
glowed. Meanwhile Dakota, up above, rummaged 
about for blankets and these he hurled down through 
a trap door so that blankets descended like thunder- 
bolts from a clear sky and extinguished completely the 
unfortunate Explorers who happened to be underneath. 
After he had hurled his thunderbolts home Dakota 
would yell, “Stand from under!” in a smothered voice, 
and would be heard to stamp away in search of further 
ammunition. Then wrapped in dusty blankets, sheets 
and curtains which, roped about their scanty waists 
gave most of the Explorers an appearance of primi- 
tive manhood, they dined on flapjacks and bacon, 
canned apricots and coffee, while their clothes steamed 
about the stove. 

Dakota Dan made the flapjacks and fried the bacon. 
With a facility achieved through long practice, he 
opened can after can of apricots, of which he seemed 
to possess an inexhaustible supply, and kept up a run- 
ning comment in a detached manner which pleased the 
Explorers tremendously. 

It was through Dakota’s commentaries and Ren- 
frew’s brief explanations that the boys, putting two 
and two together, found out what the cowboy was. 
Physically, he was a tall, wiry individual with a lean, 
235 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


brown face and black hair which cried out for a bar- 
ber’s shears. He was clad in a flannel shirt of amaz- 
ing green and scarlet plaid, corduroy trousers with a 
belt of plaited leather, and high-heeled boots which 
were adorned with intricate designs in the leather, and 
gigantic Spanish spurs with glistening brass chains. 
His easy, good humor spoke of a laziness which was 
reflected in the manner of his housekeeping, and in the 
untidiness of his personal appearance. 

“Bad weather for business, eh, Dan?” said Renfrew. 

“Shore is,” said Dan. “Bill, though, he’s over to 
the stoodio. Shore is worth a lot to look as ornery as 
Bill. They’re usin’ him to play a ape man now. Me, 
I don’t get nothin’ but hold-up men an’ such like. Held 
up the Sacramento stage four times last week ’cause the 
heeroween couldn’t recollect what costoom she’d wore 
in the stoodio set.” 

“How are the ponies?” 

“Good,” said Dan. And then he missed the flap- 
jack he was flapping which fell onto the stove, and he 
swore and scraped it off. “Good,” he repeated. “Only 
they get a little mite frisky all shut up like they’ve 
been lately. That there Sorghum, he’s fit to buck me 
through the roof when I ride him again. He certainly 
is the fightinest hoss — sell him to a surcuss some day.” 

Renfrew explained to the boys that Dakota Dan, 
who was a famous buckaroo in his native state, had 
come East with a string of ponies which he rented out 
236 


NEAR TO THE END 


with his own services to the motion picture people at 
Fort Leighton, up the river. He found it a profitable 
business. 

“Got forty-five dollars a month on the old ‘JJ’ 
ranch,” he said. “Like to break my neck ten times a 
day bustin’ broncos. Here now, I get mor’n that in one 
day fer lettin’ them movie doods ride ’em.” 

Renfrew, it seems, had met Dan in his rides about 
the country and found a common touch with him in 
reminiscences of the West, and as the afternoon passed 
by the boys sat about in their absurd apparel and prof- 
ited by those same reminiscences. Dakota referred 
very often to one whose name was Bill. Bill, it seemed, 
was his partner and he described him as a “Horse 
rasler” who was ugly as all get out. In spite of the 
riches which his association with the movie “doods” 
yielded him, it was plain that Dan yearned heartily for 
the life of the open prairie once more. 

“Shucks !” he exclaimed. “This here rain ! It’ll keep 
up forever, seems like. Now in the Spring Butte 
country you wouldn’t no more see anything like this 
yere — not if you was to live there till cows ate shoe 
leather. Shucks!” 

Then, considering the economic scheme of things: 
“Seems like we wasn’t never worried none out there.” 
He waved his arm in a sweeping, generous indication 
of all out doors. “We didn’t get no more jack than 
would cover a N’York small steak. Forty-five dollars 
237 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


a month is what I got on the ‘JJ’ an’ my keep. Which 
I wasn’t figurin’ none on makin’ any kick either. Now 
these birds down to the silk mills; they get all of 
twenty-five a week, an’ what do they do? Why, they 
lays claim to the fact that that ain’t even a grub stake 
an’ they get up an’ go on strike. Shucks ! I can see a 
picture all colored up vivid of a strike on the ‘JJ.’ ” 
He chuckled pleasantly. 

“Is there a strike at Hamilton?” Alan asked. 

“Strike ?” Dan brought his long legs down to earth 
and his chair came down with a clatter. “Where’ve 
you all been? You win, there’s a strike at Hamilton. 
Them slaves of toil are like to tear the roof off the 
town most any day. The state police are hoppin’ about 
real reckless.” 

“They went on strike a couple of years ago,” said 
Bub Currie. “Alan and I were down at Hamilton 
when the strike was on. They all wanted to ride the 
street cars for nothing and they had some great old 
fights.” 

“We saw one fight,” said Alan. “All the workmen 
crowded onto one car and when they tried to start it 
without them they pulled down the trolley pole and the 
car had to wait. It was great fun.” 

“These fellers ain’t worryin’ none about trolley 
cars,” proclaimed Dakota. “They aim to tear things 
up real promiscuous. If the mill operators don’t come 
238 


NEAR TO THE END 


across right quick I reckon there’ll be some fireworks 
down to Hamilton.” 

And the fireside talk ran on while the clothes dried 
and the Explorers dressed themselves, so that supper- 
time came and found them unprepared. 

Large quantities of milk were needed, and butter. 
Also it was discovered that the Explorers craved ham 
and eggs, and Dakota’s supply of canned apricots was 
low. So a council was held and it was decided by Da- 
kota himself that he would harness up a buggy and 
drive down to the crossroads store for the provisions. 
While they awaited his return ghost stories passed 
around the circle which was gathered about the stove, 
and the long, low room, black shadowed by the inade- 
quate light of the lamp, made a fit setting for them. 
The rude manner in which they were terminated was 
fitting, too. 

From a place far off in the darkness and rain out- 
side came a clamor of hoarse shouts which rang out 
wildly in the night for a space and were followed by a 
deathly silence. Then came the thud of hoofs beating 
fast in the mud; hoofbeats which rapidly approached 
the house. 

Renfrew arose and looked upon the startled circle. 
“Sit still,” he said, and left them. They heard him 
walk to the back of the house as the hoof beats thun- 
dered past the window. They felt the cool air sweep 
in as he flung open the door, and heard the splashing 
239 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


of the rain outside. Then a deep, hoarse voice rum- 
bled out a stream of reckless oaths. “ horse 

thieves !” they heard exclaimed with an accompaniment 
of livid adjectives. 

“Talk clean or shut up!” It was Renfrew's voice, 
very sharp and crisp. “There's a cargo of boys 
aboard,” they heard him add. A door slammed and 
he entered the room, followed by the profane horse- 
man. 

“Daw gom !” exclaimed that individual as he stepped 
into the light. And a number of the boys started up in 
cold horror when they saw his terrible face. It was 
the dark face of a gorilla crowned with a wild array 
of straw-colored hair, and a cut on the man's cheek 
smeared it hideously with blood. Unconscious of his 
terrifying appearance, he grinned and made it worse. 

“I shouldn’t a-spoke that-a-way,” he rumbled. 
“Only they made me mad.” Very amiably he revealed 
a savage set of teeth and most of his gums. 

Renfrew’s question relieved a painful tension. 

“You’re Bill, I take it?” he said cordially. 

“Bill, that’s me,” responded the horse wrestler who 
was without doubt as ugly as all get out. Even uglier. 

“You said you were held up on the road,”' said Ren- 
frew. “Who held you up ?” And Alan, looking upon 
the big, trim figure of his friend, felt that he was pres- 
ent in such a story as Renfrew told. 

“I said they tried to hold me up,” corrected Bill, 
240 


NEAR TO THE END 


grinning terribly. “Them hombres must be feelin’ 
right out o’ sorts just about this time I reckon. Me 
an’ or Pedro was just lopin’ along peaceful when they 
come out over the road. Four or five of ’em they was 
an’ one of ’em gets old Pedro by the bridle. I just 
lammed out at ’em and got in some right useful cracks 
while they get me with a rock or something here on 
the jaw,” and he indicated the cut on his face. “Then 
I guess they must of got a real good look at me. I 
ain’t exactly a prize beauty in the dark. Anyways me 
and Pedro didn’t have no trouble after that.” Again 
he flashed his teeth in the lamplight. 'We all did some 
right smart yellin’, I reckon. Where’s Dakota? I 
calc’lated we’d go back and clean up on that outfit.” 

Renfrew explained Dakota’s absence and the gallant 
Bill immediately decided to ride forth and meet his 
partner on the way home. The two men discussed 
Bill’s adventure and the practicability of his plan in 
crisp, laconic sentences while the Explorers listened, 
feeling as Alan did, that they were in truth alive in 
Renfrew’s world of adventure. Then suddenly the 
men ceased talking. A subdued roar came from the 
direction of the roadway and Bill strode over to the 
window. Renfrew picked up the lamp, and with a 
breath plunged the room into darkness. 

“Not a sound!” he snapped as the Explorers gasped. 
Then to Bill who had thrown a window up when the 
241 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


light went out: “See anything?” And he joined the 
cowboy at the window. 

“It's a mob of dagoes,” Bill strove to whisper and 
rasped his words out terribly. Alan and Billy Loomis, 
pressing against another window, could see nothing 
but the blackness ; but the sounds of the mob, moving 
up the river, scuffling on the muddy macadam and 
answering the sharp shouts of its leaders with a hoarse 
chatter, were unmistakable. Stragglers seemed to 
follow the main body of the mob, and after these had 
passed the watchers waited for a space. Then Bill 
closed the window and drew down the shades while 
Renfrew again lighted the lamp as the Explorers 
pressed about him. 

“Now what do you know about that!” Bill spoke 
softly, as though to himself. “What in thunder do 
you s’pose that gang’s out on the road to-night for?” 

Renfrew looked at him with knit brows. “I have 
only the ghost of an idea,” he said. 

Then with a grinding of wheels in the mud and a 
rattle of hocfs Dakota was among them. He burst 
through the door in unaccustomed haste. 

“Git them horses out!” he yelled to Bill. “Them 
hombres is goin’ to bust out the dam at the power 
plant an’ we got to get up to the hills quick. The 
whole valley’ll be flooded in about two shakes! We 
got to get them horses into the hills.” 

Renfrew snapped to attention. “I was afraid of 
242 


NEAR TO THE END 


that.” He thought for a moment. “Come on!” he 
cried suddenly. “Get out the horses.” 

He turned to the boys. 

“Leave your packs, fellows,” he said, “and come on. 
If you don't know anything about horses stand back 
and keep out of the way. If you can help, help. Speed 
is important. If those fellows work fast on the dam 
this place may be under water in twenty minutes.” 

Outside in the blackness of the barnyard there was 
a turmoil of thrashing, rattling hoofs. Bill and Dakota 
had lighted gasoline torches and the light from these 
flashed upon the shining bodies of the ponies as the 
two men ran them out of the barn. Alan and Billy 
and Bub with a few other Explorers lent a hand, and 
in a little while fifteen shining animals were stamping 
and prancing in the rain while the boys slung the big 
stock saddles across their sleek backs and drew tight 
the girths. The men wheeled out a wagon, and to this 
they harnessed the horses from the buggy. They trans- 
ferred the provisions from the buggy into this wagon, 
too. 

Dakota, who was supervising the saddling, came 
over to Alan as he prepared to sling a saddle across the 
back of a great dun gelding. 

“Better lemme do that, son,” he said. “Ole Sor- 
ghum, he gets real mean after bein’ shut up fer a few 
days.” 

He took the saddle from Alan. “Now jes’ lay hold 
243 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


er his years,” he said. Alan obeyed and the cowboy 
slung the saddle over and tightened the girth with a 
quick, easy movement which won Alan’s admiration. 

Renfrew approached them. He spoke to Dan. 

“Now that you fellows are all ready, I’m going to 
leave the boys with you. Alan, see that the fellows do 
as Dakota tells them. I’ve told Billy and Bub. I’m 
going to ride up to the dam and see if I can stop those 
maniacs from committing murder. Which is your best 
horse, Dakota?” 

Dakota looked at him wild-eyed. 

“Glory be !” he said. “You all can’t do nothin’ there. 
An’ if the dam goes out before you reach it, you’ll die 
real sudden. You all ” 

“Don’t waste time,” snapped Renfrew. “If that dam 
goes out, it will mean death and destruction in the val- 
ley. Which is your best horse?” 

He didn’t seem at all excited. He was only in a 
hurry. 

“Sorghum,” said Dan, indicating the horse. “He’ll 
buck you through the roof though.” 

Renfrew made no reply. He turned to Alan and 
looked into the boy’s eyes. “So long,” he said, and 
taking the bridle of the dun gelding from Alan’s hand 
he led him to an open spot. Then seizing the cheek 
strap in his left hand he adjusted his foot to the stirrup 
while the animal could only move helplessly in circles. 
Then with his right hand on the mane he vaulted 
244 


NEAR TO THE END 


quickly to the saddle, and Sorghum still moved in circles 
till Renfrew was ready to let go the cheek piece. As he 
did so the horse leapt high in the air and came down 
stifflegged upon the ground. Finding Renfrew still 
in the saddle Sorghum then started a series of buck 
jumps which brought horse and rider dangerously close 
to the barn. Then Renfrew, who was in a hurry, 
pulled up sharply on the curb and, as the splendid ani- 
mal paraded with its forelegs aloft, he brought his 
quirt down sharply on its flank, swung the animal’s 
head over so that it wheeled on its hind legs and 
charged forward at a mad gallop for the main road. 

For a moment the enchanted boys and the admiring 
cowmen stood and listened to the hoofbeats until they 
died away in the distance. 

“Shucks!” remarked Bill. “He kin shore ride; but 
the question is, kin he swim? I just hate to think what 
those dagoes will do to him if he gets there before they 
blow it up. 

“Now you kids what can’t ride, you all git into that 
wagon,” yelled Dan. “We got to hustle. The rest of 
yer hop on to them cay uses, and grab a holt of a free 
one.” And the cavalcade was under way with a great 
noise of hoof beats and rumble of wheels. They turned 
up the main road and followed it until they came to 
the red dirt road which led up into the hills. And as 
they rode Alan thought long thoughts. His mind was 
far ahead with the rider who had so gallantly gone on 
245 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


alone, racing against death for the sake of uncountable 
lives. He felt dissatisfied with his part of galloping 
away to a safe place in the hills. 

He drew in a little and waited until Billy Loomis was 
knee to knee with him. For a moment the two boys 
rode silently together. Then : 

“Say, Billy, sort of look after the other fellows, will 
you?” said Alan. “I’m going straight ahead to the 
dam when we reach the dirt road.” 

But Billy, with a set, determined face, looked into 
the rain ahead. 

“Me, too,” he said briefly. “I’m going to see the 
end of this and the end is going to be at the dam.” 

“It may be the end of Renfrew,” said Alan. 
“Hurry 1” 


CHAPTER XV 


THE VERY END 

Alan and Billy, riding blindly in the dark, veiled by 
the pouring rain, used every trick of horsemanship 
which they knew to get speed from their wiry mounts. 
They sped so swiftly over the macadam that they 
passed the dirt road which led over the hills to safety 
without even seeing it. The blackness folded them like 
a blanket ; a wet blanket ; and their horses kept the road 
with an uncanny intelligence. Occasionally they came 
together so that they touched; but immediately the 
toiling animals would separate and then only the sound 
of the hoofs and the panting of the animals gave them 
company. 

Suddenly the horses plunged and reared beneath 
them. They were thrashing about in water; a gray, 
ghostly field of it stretched away to their right and the 
murmur of the moving river was in their ears. They 
moved to the left and found the edge of the road. It 
skirted the brink of the river here, and the water had 
risen and covered it. They moved more carefully now 
247 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


and were proceeding at scarcely more than a walk 
when Alan suddenly bethought him of how Renfrew 
must have ridden through this place before them. 

“He would never have picked his way like this !” he 
cried. “Come on! We’re worrying too much about 
ourselves !” 

And his mount was surprised at the quick upgather- 
ing of the reins and the sharp command which sent him 
forward at a gallop once more. Billy, gritting his teeth, 
was at his side in a jiffy, and the two plunged on 
through a whirling spray of water. Alan felt the re- 
lentless sweep of the river at his side and shuddered as 
he pictured the breaking of the dam. The horses 
twisted and floundered in some mess of liquid mud, 
and the boys found they had lost the road. 

They turned back, plunging through the water once 
again, seeking frantically for it. They discovered 
where it left the river and wound upward upon a high 
bank and from the top of this bank they saw the white 
glare of the arc light which hung before the power 
house of the Hamilton Silk Mills, Incorporated. A line 
of yellow lights neatly spaced, showed them where the 
dam stretched across the river, and the roar of the 
water in the spillways came to them like distant thun- 
der. 

“Come on, there’s time!” yelled Billy and dug his 
heels into the sides of his mount. Together they 
248 


THE VERY END 


plunged down the hill, immensely excited at finding 
themselves in this adventure. 

Then, suddenly, and as things happened in a night- 
mare, the roadway was full of men. Their horses 
were plunging among a sea of faces. Progress stopped 
and Alan found himself struggling desperately to keep 
his seat against strong arms which seized his legs and 
strove to pull him down. He saw Billy disappear 
among the ugly faces, and he struck out with his fists 
at those which were nearest him. They seized his 
wrists then and soon he was on the road, and the cap- 
tive of a huge Slav who held him by collar and wrist 
in a manner which made all his struggling futile. They 
marched down the road, a murmurous procession, 
which was enlivened by Billy's gallant efforts to escape. 
Their captors escorted the boys to a spot at the back 
of some sheds which faced the power house, and here 
they met with another group, and an electric torch was 
thrown upon the two disgruntled faces. A conversa- 
tion ensued which was concealed in a foreign tongue 
and it was interrupted by the loud protests of an ill- 
used automobile. It was unmistakably a car of a type 
which is better known for its quantity than its quality, 
and with the first sounds of its creak and rattle the men 
behind the flashlight departed. Alan's captors followed 
close behind and Bill was brought along, too. As they 
rounded the corner of the shed, Alan saw in the arc 
light that the road was crowded with men who formed 
249 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


a huddled mob about something which was evidently 
the newly arrived automobile. 

“They’ve got it!” some one cried to Alan’s captor. 

“Enough to blow up everything,” yelled another with 
a graphic gesture. There were many other remarks in 
foreign languages, and abruptly Alan’s captor left him 
and joined the mob. Alan looked about for Billy and 
perceived him standing well away from the mob near 
the sheds. 

“Where’d you suppose Renfrew is?” he asked as 
Alan approached. 

“Search me,” said Alan. “I guess they just got some 
dynamite or something. What d’you think we ought 
to do?” 

“What was Renfrew going to do, do you think?” 
asked Billy. 

The boys peered up at the mob. Some one stood on 
the running board of the car and was haranguing the 
rest of them. 

Alan looked at the power house. It was a house of 
concrete and brick, and the arc lamp threw its light 
upon four wide stone steps which rose to a glass door 
in front of which was a steel, barred gate. The win- 
dows were guarded with bars of steel as well. 

“If Renfrew had got through,” said Alan with an 
indescribable feeling of desperation, “he would have 
stood on those steps and held them back.” 

“But we ” 


250 


THE VERY END 


A great roar uprose from the mob; a roar which 
drowned the clatter of the spillway, and like a wave 
of men the massed workers moved forward upon the 
power house. Imprecations, oaths, and wild promises 
of destruction were lost in the shouting and the tumult ; 
but although they could make out no words the boys 
knew well the purpose of the mob. To destroy and 
wreck, and tear down the fortunes of the oppressor. 
And Alan pictured the valley flood; struck by a wall 
of water. “Death and destruction,” Renfrew had 
cried. 

As the mob surged forward Alan and Billy leapt 
forward, too. They made for the wide steps with a 
great, futile intention in their hearts to stem the rush 
of the mob. But as they came to the lowest step, the 
door opened and Renfrew himself stepped out into the 
light, and the door crashed shut behind him. In an- 
other second the mob was upon them and Alan and 
Billy were hurled against the wall of the house and 
held there at the foot of the steps. 

The sudden appearance of Renfrew outside the door 
held the mob back for a moment. Only two or three 
tried to rush him and these he threw backward down 
the steps so that only the close ranks of their com- 
rades prevented them from falling. 

There came a volley of curses from the mob. 

“It’s the spy who got by us !” yelled one. 

“Spy!" 

251 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


“Scab!” 

“Smash him !” 

And other cries which were not fit to hear were 
hurled upon him. Renfrew ignored them and ignored, 
too, the missiles which came hurtling by to spend their 
force on the door behind him. He fixed his attention 
upon the few men who stood in the forefront of the 
mob and addressing them in a voice which resounded 
over the yells of the others, he seemed to search their 
faces as he spoke. 

“I can’t talk to the whole mob,” he cried with a ring 
in his voice which thrilled down Alan’s spine. “I’m no 
orator. But you men who are the leaders, listen to this. 
I know nothing of your cause. I am a stranger to this 
part of the country ; but I do know that if the dam goes 
out to-night your cause will be ruined. You are strik- 
ing for the sake of your families, your children. All 
right. If the dam goes out you will be murderers. 
What of your children then?” 

As he pronounced the word ‘murderers’ a hush fell 
upon the mob. Then some one cried out, “Scab!” 
And a stone crashed with a thud against Renfrew’s 
breast. He staggered back for a moment, but snapped 
back to his position over the mob. Leaning forward, 
fixing his flashing eyes upon the leaders, his voice ring- 
ing above the splash of the rain, the roar of the water 
in the spillway, and the cries of the mob. 

252 


THE VERY END 


“If you must do this thing,” he cried, “I cannot stop 
you. We could have held you off a while if I had 
stayed inside. We could even have fired on you 
through the bars. But I tell you I am your friend.” 
A stick of wood struck him on the face and he passed 
his hand across the place which started to bleed. “If 
the dam goes out every farm along the river is ruined. 
Houses swept away. Many people will be killed. 
Drowned !” 

“Throw him down!” 

“Smash him !” voices cried from the rear. A move- 
ment came upon the mob which surged forward. 

“Stand back ! Back !” roared the men who stood in 
front. They turned their backs on Renfrew and 
pressed against the mob. 

“Hear him out!” yelled some, and others shrieked 
out in their native tongue. Bricks, stones and chunks 
of wood were hurled forward. 

“You’re spoiling your cause! Ruining yourselves 
and your children!” thundered Renfrew. 

“Our children are starving !” shouted one in the mul- 
titude. 

“If the dam goes out your children will die!” rang 
Renfrew’s voice. “Three thousand workmen live on 
the flats of the river. If the dam bursts to-night they 
and their children die in their sleep! Would you 
kill them ? Are you going to slay those chil- 
dren—?” 


253 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 


A great stone struck Renfrew’s forehead. Alan 
heard the crack of it upon the man’s skull, and another 
sickening crack as his head hit the concrete step. 

A gasp went up from the mob as Renfrew went 
down and Alan and Billy leapt for their fallen friend 
as the mob surged forward. 

But Renfrew’s words had had a potent influence. 
Those who had heard him best were turned against the 
press of the mob from the rear, and divided against it- 
self, the mass of men were struggling and shrieking 
in the roadway. Those who had been won by Ren- 
frew’s words strove by reason and force to hold back 
their comrades who were intent on pursuing their origi- 
nal purpose. 

Alan and Billy saw the mob move back from the 
steps but knew that any minute might turn the tide of 
the struggle. They leaned over Renfrew and examined 
his wound, then finding no artery open nor any sign of 
a fracture, they attempted to move their friend away. 
But the struggling mob pressed close upon them, buf- 
feting them about and prohibited them from lifting 
Renfrew from the ground. Indeed, as the mob surged 
back and forth heavy boots were perilously near the 
boys’ heads. They toiled and tugged in despair, close 
to the heels of the scuffling laborers. 

‘They’ll trample him to death !” Alan cried. 

There came the thunder of hoofs, and loud shouting 
on the other side of the fighting mass of men. There 
254 


THE VERY END 


were stifled cries. Shouts which were muffled in the 
night air. Like a mob of the theater, the struggling 
horde scattered before the galloping of many horses. 
The men melted into blackness — into the haze of rain 
which surrounded the arc light. 

A squad of the state constabulary had arrived. Help 
had come to them in the last minute, as it does in the 
melodramas — as it does in life. 

“We must get him home !” cried Alan, and his voice 
faltered in a strange manner. The tall policeman who 
bent over him seemed to understand thoroughly. 

“We’ll get him home all right,” he said. 

A frightened man came out of the brick house and 
quavered in unmanly fear. 

“He’s a hero. He’s a hero,” he kept repeating. 
“They would have blown out the dam. He’s a hero.” 
The boys ignored him. 

“Help us,” they pleaded with the big policeman. 

“Better use that jitney,” said the understanding one; 
and he helped them bear the still form of their friend 
to the motor car which the mob had left behind. 

He returned to them as they prepared to start the 
car and informed them he was to accompany them and 
get Renfrew’s story of the affair. He took the driv- 
er’s seat and they sat in the back seat, supporting the 
mute, recumbent form. Renfrew’s face was so white, 
his breath so labored that Alan found he was afraid 
for the man’s life. 


255 


I 


RENFREW OF THE ROYAL MOUNTED 

“He’s still unconscious,” he whispered to Billy. “It 
seems like a long time.” 

The tiny car lurched on in the rain, valiantly facing 
the night. Alan felt vaguely unhappy and dissatisfied. 
Somehow the to-morrow promised nothing. There was 
finality, and the melancholy which always comes with 
the end of things, in this journey they were making. 

He spoke again to Billy, giving voice to his unhap- 
piness. 

“It seems as though this is the end of everything. 
No more Renfrew. Can you imagine it, Billy? No 
more adventure.” 

Billy gazed thoughtfully at the water streaming 
down the windshield, obscuring the road ahead even 
as the future seemed to Alan darkened and obscured. 

“While the heart beats,” said Billy, “there is no 
end.” He was quoting Renfrew, and Alan felt the 
heart beat of the man whose head was on his arm. He 
felt the cold drizzle of the rain, and the lurch of the 
little car. He did not feel afraid, and when he glanced 
downward he saw that Renfrew’s eyes were open and 
looking into his. The man stirred, and Alan smiled 
upon him. 

“There is no end,” he said aloud. “There is no end 
— ever — anyway.” 


THE END 



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